


I hold my breath (I pray thee not hear)

by Miruuuww



Series: Hold the hand of the god-child (as he falls from the sky) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, Azazel needs his own warning, Azazel's Special Children (Supernatural), BAMF Sam Winchester, Canon Rewrite, Caring Dean Winchester, Fluff and Angst, John Winchester Tries, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Dean Winchester, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Has Powers, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Sam Winchester's Visions, Slow Burn, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, no beta we die like the winchesters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 74,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28008318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miruuuww/pseuds/Miruuuww
Summary: What if, instead of disappearing later on, Sam's psychic powers made themselves known earlier than potrayed in the show?How will the 14-year old Sam deal with his unexplainable new powers, and more importantly, how will his family react?
Relationships: Bobby Singer & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Caleb & Joshua (Supernatural), Dean Winchester & John Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Hold the hand of the god-child (as he falls from the sky) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051796
Comments: 94
Kudos: 141





	1. Blackened sky

**Author's Note:**

> When you were young you used to dream about fires  
> And scream into the night  
> To find me standing barefoot at your side  
> I used to whisper it will be alright  
> And lay down at your side  
> And take your tiny hands into mine

"What a fucking dump."

"Dean." John chastised, but didn't disagree. After dropping his duffel by the door, Dean ventured more inside the small appartment. The small kitchenette had old cabinets with cracked paint, and an oven which looked older than John, and something dark and sticky on the handle. The sink probably had been a silvery color, but now it was covered in rust. Dean turned it on, and a cracking rumble came from the pipes, causing him to quickly shut it off. 

There were two doors, one presumably to the bedroom, other to the bathroom. A mattress which seemed to work as a couch was placed in the middle of the room, and on a small wooden couch table was a cracked TV. There were stains on the wallpaper, water stains or something else, Sam didn't want to imagine. 

"No, but seriously Dad, this is a new low." Dean turned around, and Sam looked over to John, who didn't say anything, eyes locked with the old watch around his wrist. The truck was rumbling outside, and it didn't seem that Dad was going to stay long. 

"I'll be back in a week. Keep your heads down, boys, you're here just to wait, nothing more." An order, and John turned back to the door, Sam moving towards the kitchen, placing his duffel down by Dean's. He didn't register Dean's 'yes sir', but eyed what would be their home for a week or longer, since Dad's schedules seemed to always stretch 'a little longer'. Sam knew by the age of six not to expect his father back when he says he should be. He'd only be disappointed.

"Sam?" He humms, turning to face Dad, who hasn't left. His eyes are narrowed, eyebrow risen, jaw locked. 

"Oh, sorry. Yes sir." He says, monotone, and turns back around. He can see Dean eye him, but doesn't pay it attention, but starts to unpack his duffel, taking out their food supplies. He can hear his Dad sigh, but soon the door closes without goodbye, and he relaxes. 

Dad's gone, he doesn't have a headache, and he's alone with Dean. Maybe this week won't be shitty.

"You know, Dad isn't asking you much. I know you gotta lot on your mind, but he just wants you to respect him." Cross that, this won't be a great week. 

Sam sighs, already so done with the conversation. Yes, he's pissy, like Dean always remembers to remind him, but he's also tired and anxious. Usually with Dean time goes quickly and it's usually quite fun, except for when the older tries to solve the issue between Sam and John. He's become too tired of his dad to even care much anymore. 

"And I just want him to listen to me for once. Just, drop it Dean, I'm tired and not in the mood." He says, stuffing the three convenience food packages he has into the cabinets, cringing at the way the handle jiggles, almost falling off. This place really isn't very great, but it could be worse. He hears Dean sigh, but gladly he drops it, moving over to start unpacking his own duffel. Leaving the rest of their shared food into the kitchen, Sam leaves to find the bedroom, which as he guessed was the door on the right.

It's a small room, a double bed, which great, he's sharing with Dean, who snores and hogs all the damn blankets. The frame seems intact after a quick check, and the mattress seems decent enough, not filled with holes or any other weird shit they've seen on the road. He digs into his duffel, rolling his shoulders, trying to get rid of the tension. He doesn't need any more encouragement for his headaches. 

He's gotten better at it, has some kind of knowledge what feeling means what, and what type of headache means a vision, and what type means something bad happening soon. 

It's partly the reason for the growing rift between him and John. As well as with Dean, who he's always shared everything with, and likewise. The older thinks he's just being a teenager, but he's suspicious, and Sam can't fool him. He knows that Dean suspects he's hiding something from him.

What was he supposed to say?

Hey Dean, so you know the headaches? Yeah, they're kind of because of my psychic powers, that came out of nowhere, oh and yeah, I get visions from the future, and can move things with my mind. Wanna go to movies?

Hell no.

He hears the shower turn on, and shortly after, there's a yell of triumph.

"Sammy! We got hot water!" He huffs, because of course Dean finds something positive immediately. Guess it's always been like that. He finds something good to focus his own and Sam's attention on, away from the fact their dad is pretty much abandoning them every chance he gets, and if not, then he's dragging them into life threatening situations. 

It's a sensitive topic for him, now more than ever probably. It's the family business, hunting things, saving people. Killing monsters and all that shit. So with his new powers, or whatever you wanna call them, Sam's started to question the line between a monster and a human. Which one is he, huh? He's human, but he has visions of the future, can move things with his mind, and he's quite sure he can sense spirits, at some level. Proven by their couple previous hunts, where Sam's been able to sense the ghost coming before it appears, and somehow figure out what thing they're tied to, if he's close to the object.

A part of him is afraid, okay, a big part of him is afraid. He's afraid of the powers, the curse, or whatever it is. He's afraid of what Dean will think, and what John will do. Will he not hesitate, and behead Sam the way he's seen his father behead things that could be considered close to human? Will Dean follow him without a second thought? 

He swallows the lump in his throat, and rubs his forehead. He should probably go join Dean, before the older grows suspicious. He'll test his powers again later this week, and hopefully he'll see some improvement with how tough his headaches are. Training should make them easier, with all the logic Sam has. On the other hand, he doesn't know what applies to him anymore, and what doesn't.

°°°

It's warm, the first thing Sam acknowledges. He shifts on the mattress, and blinks his eyes slowly open. He stares at the ceiling, feeling a yawn break through. It's still dark out, and Sam briefly wonders what woke him. He moves to sit up, but the hand thrown over him stops him quickly. He recognizes Dean basically flush against his side, the older's whole arm thrown across Sam's chest. A warm feeling blossoms in his chest, and Sam smiles briefly. He does love his brother, which is why hiding something this big from him is so damn hard sometimes. 

He furrows his eyebrows, turning his attention to the weird feeling in his head. It doesn't take him long to recognize it, and he fights to get as quickly out of bed without waking Dean up. He rushes into the bathroom, and locks the door behind him. The pulsing behind his eyes grows stronger, and Sam almost feels like crying, the pain coming quick and out of nowhere. He grips the edges of the sink, trying to breathe as he bites into his cheek to avoid making any sound.

The pain intensifies, and Sam doubles over, squeezing his eyes shut so hard it hurts. Just get it over with, please just get it over with-

It stops like into a wall, and Sam tries to prepare, but fails. The images start appearing, flashes almost too quick to capture. 

_He's standing in the middle of a clearing, the woods surround him. He breathes, and turns around. Behind him he sees a figure, standing by the treeline. He feels his chest tighten, feels his mouth suddenly fill with something and he starts panicking, but the scenario changes before he can see the figure better-_

_"Can you go check I didn't leave the keys in the car, Sammy?" Dean's voice, and Sam feels himself nod, and feel the outside air against him. A screech of tires, pain everywhere, and it goes black- ___

__Sam gasps, leaning his head against the cool tile, trying to breathe. It's over, it's over, just breathe. Deep breaths, it's over. He can feel a trickle slide over his lip, and knows it's blood, but doesn't have the energy to care. He breathes, keeping his mind on hold, as the pulsing headache lessens, and he can slowly open his eyes. What the fuck was that?_ _

__The light blinds him slightly, and he squeezes his eyes back shut as his head pulses dangerously. He hears something creak outside the door, and knows before the knock hits the door, that Dean's awake, for God knows what reason._ _

__"Sammy? Y'alright?" He sounds tired, not properly awake yet, so he had probably woken up on his own, instead of being woken by some sound Sam could've made during the vision. He swallows, the taste of blood too familiar in his mouth, and straightens up, tilting his head back as he reaches to the side, clicking the door open. It creaks open, and Sam hears Dean softly curse. Dean squeezes between him and the counter, one hand comfortably on his neck, as the other tilts his head back even more. Dean replaces his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose._ _

__The hand on his neck rubs gently, carefully, and Sam wants to see Dean's expression, but doesn't dare to open his eyes. He doesn't want to worry his brother, whose supposed to work some little jobs during the week, which he won't do if he thinks something is wrong with Sam._ _

__"Another headache?" Dean asks, quiet and rumbly, and Sam hums, not wanting to move his head at all from where it rests against the cold tiles. Dean doesn't say anything, but the hand on his neck tenses a bit, and Sam knows Dean's displease and worry even before he opens his eyes._ _

__Dean's forehead is furrowed, his eyes narrowed and lips pinched into a thin line, and it takes him a while to notice Sam watching him. The expression smooths out, and with his other hand Dean grabs some toilet paper, dabbing underneath Sam's nose and over his lips, taking some of the blood off._ _

__"Hey, eyes closed. Don't want to make your headache any worse. I think your nosebleed is ending, you wanna go grab some pills, a cold rag, and go back under the covers?" Sam can't help it, he smiles a little bit, despite the pain. What would he do without his brother?_ _

__"Sure, rag's in my duffel somewhere." He says, taking over pinching his nose, and cleaning some of the blood off. Dean huffs, "No it isn't. It's in mine, since you almost forgot it before we left. I'll be right back."_ _

__Sam sighs, and thinks about his vision. It doesn't seem to threaten Dad's life, which is a relief, because getting Dad to stop in the middle of a hunt is harder than getting Dean to let him pick the music. It also doesn't seem to threaten Dean's life, which is even a bigger relief, even if it would be easier to avoid. So that leaves him in the danger zone, since there was no one else in his dream other than him and Dean._ _

__But who was the figure in the clearing?_ _

__The sink by him turns on, and Sam flinches, not realizing Dean had come back. A hand rubs his arm, a quiet apology for scaring him, and Sam huffs. He should've heard him, hunter and all, no matter what state he's in. Maybe John's right, he should pay more attention. A hand grabs his, and Sam opens his eyes enough to see Dean, who has a glass in his other hand, and his pill bottle in the other._ _

__"Thanks." He mumbles quietly, hands shaking as he takes the pills from the bottle, quickly taking the glass and swallowing them down. He hands the glass back to Dean, who places it on the counter._ _

__"C'mon, let's go to bed." Dean yawns quietly, and Sam's reminded of waking up his brother. Dean needs his sleep, but Sam doesn't know why the older wakes up, even if he doesn't make a sound._ _

__"Don't feel bad, it's my Sammy-instict, you can't help it. Now get in the bed, and let me know if you need to throw up." Sam huffs. Sometimes he can get annoyed by how well Dean knows him, but in times like these, it's very useful. Makes it a lot easier. Makes everything a lot easier, in fact._ _

__The covers are pulled back, and Sam climbs in, careful not to bang his head on the bedframe. He wraps the covers around him, and stays still as Dean places the cold rag on his forehead. Instantly, he feels a lot better, and he melts into the mattress. The pain isn't as bad, and Sam knows that it'll be mostly gone in the morning._ _

__The mattress beside him dips, and Dean slides into the little tight burrito Sam's made around him, his body radiating warmth, that's quick to start lull Sam to sleep. The arm returns to rest across his chest, and Sam doesn't mind it all. Even better, careful fingers start rubbing his scalp, an effective method to get Sam to sleep, which as well he doesn't mind. Sleep sounds good right now._ _

__"Get some sleep. Don't got school or anything tomorrow, I'll wake you up if you sleep too late." Dean says in a hushed tone, and Sam feels a try of guilt bloom in the bottom of his stomach. He turns his head a bit, to where he knows Dean is, and the side of his head quickly touches Dean's chest. He sighs, relaxing._ _

__"Thanks." He mumbles one last time, letting sleep pull him under. The fingers in his hair carry on, and the arm around him tightens, bringing him closer to Dean._ _

__"Anytime, little brother." Sam slips off into sleep, and his last thought is,_ _

__He's grateful to have Dean, even if he'll lose him in the end._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters, or anything about Supernatural, and I make no profit of this.


	2. A pace of a lucid dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carry me home there's no sorrow down in the ground  
> Carry me home don't you weep for I am freedom bound  
> Lay down my bones there is peace within the light I've found  
> Release my soul, carry me home

Sam stretched, feeling his shoulder quietly pop. He was comfortable, under the blankets, half asleep. He had no reason to get up, so he stayed in bed, and waited for Dean to drag him up, when needed. 

He hadn't had any dreams, proper ones anyway, his headache was gone, leaving behind only a distant kink in his neck. The spot beside him was still warm, and Sam contently rolled over to his stomach, burying himself in Dean's pillow.

This was good. 

He must have dozed back off, and returned to reality slowly after the mattress beside him dipped. He shifted, opening his other eye. It was Dean, of course, dressed in his favourite band shirt, and some sweatpants, grinning down at him. A hand rubbed his back, and Sam groaned, trying to get himself to get up. He didn't want to get up, but he probably should. Wouldn't want John to lecture Dean about letting him off the hook for early wake-up calls. 

"Mornin, Sammy. Headache gone?" Dean asked, and Sam hummed, yawning into the pillow before he started to get up. Dean moved off the bed, giving him space to stretch. 

"I made breakfast already, so come and get it when you're ready." Sam nodded happily, and Dean huffed, smiling, and left. Sam didn't bother changing out of his sleeping clothes, he could do that later. He felt good, which was surprising after having a vision like 5 hours ago. Maybe it had something to do with Dean, the older always made him feel better, no matter how sick or injured he was. 

He followed after Dean, getting quickly reminded by their current living situation. He could see Dean had done some little jobs there and there, to make it look a little better, but it was still the same shithole it was yesterday when John left them. Dean was leaning against the counter, eating, and Sam didn't want to break their good moods by asking after Dad, even if he knew there would be nothing to tell. John was like that, he told you things when he wanted to, no matter was it in the middle of a hunt, or not. One of the things they had fought about. Sam liked knowing things before throwing himself and Dean into danger, so important details in his mind should be told before, but John did everything in his way.

"Made you a sandwich." Dean said, cutting his thought process. He tilted his head towards the small table, and Sam noticed the sandwich, quickly moving to pick it up. He was hungry, and happily started munching on it.

"Thanks, Dean." 

"Just some bread and butter, nothing fancy. Whatdya wanna do today?" Dean asked, and Sam pondered. On the other hand, this would be the perfect opportunity to have some missed little-big-brother time, but he had no idea when his vision could be happening. Anywhere from under 24 hours to a few weeks. Damn brilliant powers, can't even tell when something is happening. 

"Could go pick up some stuff from the store, we're running short on food packets." Dean nodded, and they continued to eat in silence. Sam eyed the room, and could feel Dean watching him, as usual. He had grown a little more alert about it, since Dean watching him carefully could lead to him seeing something weird. Not that Sam would ever risk using his powers willingly in front of anyone, especially Dean or Dad. 

"I could go get some meds, the painkillers are starting to run out. Dad said to get some bandages anyway. Do you know when the stores close?" Sam felt a jab of guilt, for needing to use their limited stash of painkillers, and Dean must've noticed it on his face.

"Painkillers are for killing the pain, Sam, you know that. That's the point of us having them." Sam nodded, eyeing the floor for a second. Dean was frowning, he knew it, and quickly his plate hit the counter, and the older was walking over to him. Bumping their shoulders together gently, "We'll figure out what your headaches are about, don't worry." 

Sam wanted to huff, because he knew what his headaches were about. He opened his mouth to say something, but after glancing at Dean he couldn't. The older was worried, he knew that, but he could see that Dean was tired too. Tired of having to watch out for Sam, and he was probably loosing sleep over this headache shit. It wasn't fair. Dean wasn't supposed to look that tired. He was supposed to be going out, partying and hooking up with girls, not having to keep an eye on Sam. But he knew Dean wouldn't leave him if he thought something was wrong.

But how could he make it seem okay, when he can't control the way his head seems to explode, and the blood pouring out basically from everywhere.

He couldn't.

Gone was the good mood, and Sam wrapped his arms around himself. 

"I think the store with all the painkillers and stuff closes around one, so maybe if you go get them, and then we'll go shop for food later? I think I got couple bucks left somewhere." He forced himself to meet Dean's eyes, tired eyes. Had he lost weight? His cheekbones seemed to pop out more. He's been eating, hasn't he? They haven't been that short on money for a while.

"Sure, you got anything you wanna eat on mind?" Sam shrugged, biting out a smile, and Dean seemed to believe it, even if relucantly. The older stayed for a while, and Sam started to feel himself weaver under Dean's stare, but then with a pat on Sam's shoulder, Dean left him alone.

He grabbed his jacket, and the keys from the table before doing one look over of Sam. Sam chuckled, wanting to distract him, "Go on, before it closes. I'm gonna go change, and figure out what we're going to eat." 

Dean swallowed it, and with a quick bye, he left, the Impala's rumbling starting soon enough. Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. He should probably let Dean cut it. Walking to the bedroom, he pulled a dark leather notebook out of his duffel, hidden under all of his stuff, and flicked it open.

He scrolled through the pages, stopping at a clean one. Grabbing a pencil, he started writing. 

-Bayport, Minnesota

_Another v. No weird feelings.  
V: Dean, keys in 'pala, outside, wind, tires screeching. Possible accident? Nothing on Dad, or Dean. Might be a warning for me. Connection to self-protection? Something weird did happen before/during v. A clearing, lot of trees, and someone else. Seemed to be male, adult. Bad feeling about him. Connected to a hunt? The rest of the vision? _

He clicked his pen, and closed the notebook. Hiding it away, he sat on the bed. There had never been something like that before, in his visions. It was always straight and forward, what was going to happen, who, and where. This time there was some additional, weird scenario, and even weirder feeling. He had no idea what to think. Every vision, weird feeling or new ability he had written down in that notebook, which is why he had to keep it secret. He had filled the first couple pages with some bullshit, to make it seem like a diary, to spook off Dean. Couldn't have them know about it.

At the same time, a part of him had thought of the notebook as his confession. A pre-written, entire development of his abilities, written down by him when it happened. Maybe, when he was going to be found out, Dean and John could read it, and maybe give him some leeway. A week, or even couple days, before they'd start hunting him down, would make running a lot easier. However, he doubts John will let him go, risk him hurting people. 

He didn't know what was wrong with him, but he knew what was considered natural, and what supernatural.

And he fell into the supernatural category. 

If he'd think about it too much, he'd spiral down into madness, or something worse, and that wasn't acceptable. He didn't think he was going to see his fifteenth birthday, so he had enjoyed, the little as ever, celebration they had for his fourteenth. Next year he wouldn't have Dean buying him a present with his already too tight money situation, a pat on the shoulder from John, or anything. If he would live to see another year, he'd probably spend his birthday alone in some dirty dark motel, running from everyone and everything. 

Oh yes, he was quite sure every hunter in the USA was going to be after him. John Winchester's kid, little Sammy who you shouldn't fuck with unless you wanted Dean on your ass, after all was too different for this life, turned against his own family and became a monster. He could already hear the stories to be told to new hunter generations. The story of Winchesters, a fucked up family, whose youngest son turned into a monster, and his family was forced to kill him. 'Don't trust even your family, they can become monsters too', he could hear them say. 

He exhaled, letting himself go. What went wrong, and when? When was it set in stone that Sam was going to become a monster, the very things he's been taught his entire life to hunt and kill. When did he become the freak? Why couldn't he just have been normal, with no stupid abilities, or senses for dead people, or weird visions of the future? Why couldn't he be normal? 

He rubbed a hand over his face, he didn't have time for melodramatics. Pulling out the first clothes he found, he quickly changed, and started thinking about how to budget so they'll last this week.

°°°

Sam dried his hair, peeking his head out. Dean was going through his jacket's pockets, eyebrows furrowed huffing and puffing. Had he lost something? Wallet?

"All good?" He asked, entering the room. Dean spun around, nibbling on his lip, clearly distracted. Sam shifted, rubbing his hands together, starting to feel nervous.

"Can't find the keys." Okay, oh shit, calm down, we know what's going to happen, so we can avoid it. Calm, don't make Dean worry, it might change it. Can't endanger Dean-

"Can you go check I didn't leave the keys in the car, Sammy?" Act normal, act normal. Prepare, calm, you got this. 

"Be right back." He says, trying to sound neutral, and pulls his shoes on. He tries to listen, to hear if something might be going on outside. Nothing. Plan is simple, avoid the damn cars. Not too much to ask. He slips outside, heart thumping loudly. No cars are moving, are parked neatly, and no one seems to be leaving. The Impala is parked maybe 30 feet away, not too far, not too close. Calm, and move.

He goes to cross the parking lot, eyeing the people around him. There's an older lady couple feet from him, going cross from Sam, apparently heading towards the motel's reception. Sam smiles at her, and she smiles back, kindly. Not a second or two later, something suddenly tightens in his chest. Quickly he looks around, and his heart jumps into his throat as he spots a car swerving into the parking lot, scaring a couple kids off the road. It's going way too fast, heading for the lady-

Sam doesn't think, he yells out a warning, and bursts into a sprint across the parking lot. The old lady panics, throwing her hands up to protect her, and Sam's sure it's going to hit her-

The car swerves left, tires screeching loudly, and suddenly the headlights are facing Sam-

He moves on autopilot, the years of hunter training happy to throw him out of danger's way. He rolls across the rough ground, barely avoiding the front of the sedan that instead hits the rear of a car parked. Sam stares at the grey sky above him, heart beating in his ears, his fingers tingling.

Is it over? Is it done? Was that it?

A car door is slamming, and a young guy is running around the car, quickly companied by the lady, and the receptionist of the motel. There are hands behind his head, one taking his pulse, and one holding his hand. The driver is panicking, not really sure what to panick more over, the fact that he almost hit someone, or the fact that he crashed against someone else's car.

While waving the people away, insisting his fine, Sam hears a door slam open. A lot of the motel's people are coming out, and the guy shouting seems to be the owner of the other car, but Sam's focus completely goes to Dean, whose sprinting out of their room, a look on his face Sam's more than familiar with. It's the look Dean has when something dares to attack Sam, a bit of a feral look that Sam knows is just fear and worry. It doesn't take long for Dean to reach them, shouldering past the people surrounding him, and Sam doesn't get to blink before he's right at front of him.

"Are you alright?" Hands cup his face, before quickly going around his body, checking his head and back, hands that are scraped from the ground. 

"All good, just some scrapes." Dean doesn't seem to believe him, which Sam can't blame him for. He's been hiding too much stuff from Dean. Before he can start another interrogation, the old lady steps closer, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder.

"He's quite alright, dear. I saw it, and he just avoided the car." Dean looks at the lady, a bit bewildered, and Sam feels like chuckling. Dean has a weird thing with old ladies, since some of them like to give him a earful, and some are just complete sweethearts. 

"I'm alright. A little shaken, but fine. You alright?" He directs the question at the lady, who smiles. He can sense Dean not appreciating being brushed off, but he wants to make sure everyone is fine. He had felt pain in the vision, and there was no pain now, so had he done it? Was it fine again?

"All good, sweetheart. Thank you for asking. Now go get some food and water before your blood sugar drops, dear." And then she's walking away, the motel's receptionist going with her after casting an odd look at Dean and him. 

"Sam?" He turns back to Dean, who is now done with panick, and only relieved. He smiles, and it works as usual, Dean answering it with a smile of his own. The older sighs, throwing an arm around Sam, and pulling him with him, towards their motel room that's door is still wide open from Dean's little sprint outside. 

Walking back, Sam starts to relax. Another catastrophe avoided, and no one got hurt. Dean will smother him for a while, and make sure he's actually alright. He doubts they'll be going to the store today. Maybe, just maybe, he can live with the visions, and have Dean in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to have more chapters out now during winter break. Hope you'll all enjoy the holidays, if you have any!
> 
> Thanks for reading <3!


	3. At the divide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We feel a coming strain  
> And now it's too late  
> To change  
> What you want is law  
> You crowd me with all that you stole  
> Oh, how the mighty fall

Maybe he should start from the beginning.

It started with headaches. That's the simplest way to put it into words. Headaches that came out of nowhere, lasted anywhere between five to thirty minutes, and sometimes made his nose bleed. 

The first few times it had happened, Dean had dragged him straight into ER, convinced there was something wrong with him. The doctors agreed, until all their test results came back completely normal. Then it was a different note, and John had lectured Dean about it for hours, for risking their cover for something meaningless, which of course resulted in a shouting match. And since Sam's headaches didn't disappear, Dean and John were fighting about it almost weekly. 

It was headaches, and yes, maybe that should've been enough to ring all his alarm bells, hunter ones included, but Sam brushed it off as some puberty side-effects. After all, his head had been filled with lessons about what puberty does to your body, since every time he had to change schools, the teachers thought it was a important enough topic to teach him for the hundreth time. 

Dean wasn't much support, only laughing at him every time he whined about it. Big brother rights be damned, it was starting to get on his nerves, which again if he mentioned to anyone, it would be another mention of puberty's affects on mindsets and emotions.

So, no thank you.

While under pretty much constant surveillance from Dean, who had started shifting blame from biological faults to something supernatural, which of course caught John's attention quite fast, he tried to hide most of his headaches the best he could, wanting everything to get back to normal, but it only got worse.

It only took one time for Sam to start thinking. One time, that afterwards started to happen more frequently. Instead of it being just a headache, which was very shitty by itself, Sam started to see things.

Yes, he knows how crazy it sounds, which is why it caught his attention.

The weird images and flashes of scenarios he had seen during the headaches previously, he had brushed off as his imagination acting out with his migraine, or it could be a dream he might be mixing with reality. 

The concept of deja vu wasn't new to him. More frequently he'd get this feeling out of nowhere, like he had seen this, heard it, or felt it before, much like in a deja vu. So he didn't pay it much mind, he had better things to be doing that wondering if he was finally losing his mind, or if the supernatural world was getting to him. 

The first time it rang his alarm bells, was during a hunt in Midland, Michigan. A ghost set on revenge on the people who more or less caused their death. A string of weird deaths had caught his attention while browsing in the library after school, and his dad had immediately zeroed on it, and two days later, they were on the move. After a quick research, some asking around the town, they came to the conclusion that the ghost was of a deceased Ann-Maria Johnson. A girl in her twenties, found murdered in a back alley after a night out with her friends, was now killing said friends for apparently leaving her with her murderer and letting them do their thing.

So they went on their usual way, figuring out she had been cremated, so they went to snoop on her old house, luckily that was abandoned, which was nearby where the murders had been happening, and oh boy were they in for action.

From the second they had entered the living room, no time to even seperate to search, the ghost had pretty much gone berserkers, throwing every possible thing at all of them. John yelling orders, Dean and him were trying to dodge the flying objects and tried to make their way out, to figure out a new plan, was when Ann-Maria decided it would be a good idea to slam their father into the kitchen wall, and pretty much flung the entire kitchen table straight towards Sam. He had managed to dodge it mostly, the edge slamming against his shoulder and tripping him to the ground, which immediately was a mistake.

Cold fingers had wrapped around his ankles, and suddenly he was being dragged, through the ringing in his head he heard Dean yelling after him, before the door behind him slammed shut, and he was able to scramble up. He was in what seemed to be a bedroom, perhaps even the ghost's room, which would've made sense. Before he could do anything however, the room had went freezing, frost appearing on the windows and soon he was shooting the ghost full of rock and salt, while shouting back at Dean who was trying to open the door. 

His throat closed up, and instictly he started fighting back at the invisible force that got him suspended against the wall by the door. His boots were scraping against the floor, the door was budging but not giving in, and Sam was sure he was going to die.

Before he could send out last prayers for someone to keep Dean safe, his head exploded in pain, and the pressure around his throat disappeared. He could hear the door crack in finally, and he was being dragged out, his own feet barely carrying him. A trail of blood was running past his lip, his head was pounding, and he felt like throwing up.

Which he did. Thrice.

John had found the object the spirit was tied to, and after he stopped puking his guts out, they left the scene, Sam wrapped in blankets in the backseat, as bruises started appearing on his throat.

The headache lasted, stronger than any before, and he's had damn many concussions, and after three complete days, he felt finally normal. Physically, of course, mentally, not so. Something had happened back there. She was so close to killing him, what had happened that made her let go, and caused the headache? 

A trip to the library, finally unsupervised by Dean, brought him to many answers.

Possessions, spiritual awakenings, out of body experience etc. He knew some of these things were possible, and while reading down the list he had made, his eyes stopped on one word. He got the feeling again, like this was the right thing, right word on this second.

Psychic powers.

°°°

"-am! Sam! You hearin' me?" He flinched, inhaling sharply as he returned to reality. They were in the Impala, his dad driving, radio playing in the background. He must've fallen asleep, or something. Damn headache.

"Sorry sir, what is it?" He tried to be respectful, even if whatever John was about to say would probably be another lecture. Pulling his head into the game he finally remembered what was going on. 

Apparent werewolf, snatching their victims before full moon, later on for them to be found dead, and missing a heart. They had left the decently cozy little motel room they had only four days ago, and Sam was already sick of John. The werewolf had taken Dean, who Sam and John both had failed to realize fit into the profile way too well. Young people who tended to go to bars, in favour of the ladies or men of the town, usually an older sibling. Jacob Robinson was the name, a loner in his thirties that lived by the woods, and was rarely seen outside of his home. That's where they were headed, truck full of silver knives and machetes, which Sam wasn't so eager to use. 

"You should really start paying attention, some day it'll cost someone's life. Mine or Dean's." John lectured, and Sam almost winced. Biting his cheek, he decided he'd pop the rest of his meds by the time they get back, and then get a long sleep. Maybe this headache would pass by then.

"Yes sir, sorry." He muttered, and felt John side-eye him. The car fell silent, and Sam watched the houses pass by. It wouldn't be long now.

_"There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know  
Lord, I know."_

____

Sam stared at the radio, another of his feelings making itself known. He felt uneasy, and the small hairs in his neck stood out. He couldn't have a vision now, he couldn't. Not in front of John. God knows what he'd do. 

____

Maybe he wouldn't do anything bad?

____

Hah, good joke him. 

____

Shifting in his seat, he blocked the music out, not wanting to hear it. 

____

"Dean will be fine. In and out, just like you know it goes." Sam turned to look at his dad, who kept his eyes locked with the road. Perhaps he had thought Sam's nervousness was of Dean. Don't get him wrong, there's nothing in the world he loves and adores more than his big brother, but until now he had been confident that tonight would go well. However, the headache he has, and the song that is still bothering him, he doesn't feel as confident anymore.

____

"I know." He says, and John thinks nothing of it. He swallows the lump in his throat, fiddles with his thumbs, and thinks,

____

It's going to be fine.

____

°°°

____

The property is quiet when they arrive, the Impala's rumbling cutting off. The lights in the two story house are out, as well as in the other buildings in the yard. They survey for a while, and nothing seems to be happening inside. His dad exits the car, and Sam follows after, keeping his eyes locked with the windows, trying to spot any movement. Three windows left from the front door, a curtain moves aside, before sharply moving back.

____

"There's someone inside. Curtains moving on the left." He says, keeping his eyes locked with it for a while, before backing off to the trunk where John is. 

____

"Probably our guy. Grab a knife and a machete, and keep an eye out." Sam nods, moving to grab said things. The silver knife he puts on his belt, feeling more secure with the machete, as much as he despises using it. He has a bad feeling, he can't help it. So his mission is to keep an eye out, find Dean as fast as possible, keep him and dad safe, and maybe not die himself. After the accident with the ghost two months back, he is quite sure his little thing will make sure he's alive, just gotta make sure no one sees it happen. He got lucky last time, but luck doesn't happen often with his family.

____

Checking the flashlight works, he jogs after John whose at the front door, seemingly already knocked, checking if Jacob would show himself. They don't want to behead the wrong guy, but they're at least 95 percent sure it's him. Guess they'll find out soon. 

____

The door is open, and before entering John turns to him, "You check upstairs, I'll stay down here. Try to find Dean, and if you do, call me. Keep an eye out, he seems to like hiding." Sam nods, and the door creaks open. Their flashlights illuminate the hallway instantly in front of them, and Sam checks their surroundings, before slipping to the stairs next to the door. He watches his dad go, trying to get any feeling that would indicate he should stay with him, but gets nothing. 

____

Breathing slowly, he starts going up the stairs, trying to step lightly to not make them creak. It's most likely he's downstairs, but werewolves can move fast and quickly, which is why he needs to be careful. Or then he ran, which would be the easiest option for now, but Sam doesn't really believe in it. He almost trips on the last step, keeping his eyes trained with the hallway front of him. It goes to the right, but there's another hallway to the left, and Sam starts with that.

____

Machete held tight, he listens carefully, every creak he's heard so far are from downstairs, which he doesn't know if it's a good or a bad thing. Dean will probably kill him, or Dad, for going after a werewolf, and seperating, but he and John have a shared need to find Dean first and foremost. He checks another closet, full of half empty boxes and clothes, the doors making sound at last. He starts moving a bit faster, checking through the bedrooms and what seems to be an office. He leaves the hallway, back to the stairs, and checks his surroundings again. All seems normal.

____

"Stat!" He hears his father yell from downstairs, and clears his throat, moving so his back isn't facing the unchecked corridor. 

____

"Nothing yet, half to go!" He yells back, and continues down the hallway, his hands starting to sweat a bit. He flexes his fingers, checking the closets, and opens the door to another bedroom. Out of nowhere, his body freezes in the doorway. His headache pulses, and Sam breathes slowly, but the uneasy feeling doesn't go away. He scans the room, but he still can't see anything that would ring alarms. He grits his teeth, because his psychic thing hasn't always been right, and this is ridiculous. When did he start following his gut instead of his orders?

____

He steps in, nothing out of the ordinary, checks the closet by the bed, and moves to check the bathroom. All clear, no shower curtains that could spook him without a reason, and he turns to leave. 

____

Instead of the door being open like he left it, it's closed. And more importantly, he isn't alone.

____

"DAD!" 

____

He barely dodges the growling mass hurling at him, swinging his machete as he tries to unlock the door with another hand. Is it fucking locked?!

____

The footsteps from downstairs echo soundly, and Sam kicks the drawer by the door towards Jacob, who really doesn't seem to like it. He attacks Sam again, and he doesn't even get the time to curse, before his back is slammed against the door behind him, which seems to shatter, but the floor welcomes him happily. He kicks like mad, his boots seeming to hit something so solid that it won't budge, and the growling in his ear really isn't helping!

____

He moves his head out of the way of the sharp teeth, and thrusts his machete upwards with all the strength he has. He hears the squelch, the crackle of ribs, and rolls around, away from the teeth, swinging his machete down as quick as possible. 

____

Straight through the neck.

____

Fuck.

____

He slumps against the wall, panting, his hands covered elbow deep in blood, his shirt stained as well. Before he can truly comprehend what happened, or the joy of killing his first werewolf hits him, his dad is nearly slamming into the wall after the stairs, machete in hand, when he spots Sam. 

____

"Sam!" His dad is running to him, and Sam furrows his forehead, trying to ease his headache. His whole back feels like its burning, and he's going to bruise so badly again. He's probably also covered in splinters. There are arms under his suddenly, and he's pulled up, opening his eyes to John's stern face. 

____

"Did he bite you?" He asks, loud, and for some reason, shakes him a bit, making his head flare up. He slaps the hands away, bringing his not so blood stained hand up against his forehead, cursing the headache.

____

"No, just gotta killer headache from that." He says, loud even as he wants to hear no sounds, loud the least. It's quiet for a while, and Sam is grateful it, and for that it's over and they can go find Dean. 

____

"You killed your first werewolf, good job kiddo." Dad pats his shoulder, and even as the praise is welcome, the most he needs is some aspirin right now. 

____

"Thanks." He gets out, trying not to throw up. Dean's going to fuzz so bad when he finds out, which is probably going to be very soon.

____

"Quite sure Dean's in the basement, heard some clanging from down there just before you called. Let's go." And the John is gone, and Sam let's his face fall. Fucking Jacob and damn doors. Sighing, he goes after his dad, wanting to get this over with finally. The stairs creak loudly, as he walks them down, his head pulses even louder, he can't almost hear anything else than the bumping of his own heart. He puts a hand on the closest wall, taking couple deep breaths.

____

"S-"

____

It's a warning yell, but too late. Something smashes against his shoulder, spinning him around, the machete flying from his hand. A gun goes off somewhere behind him, but misses and Sam is slammed into another wall, something sharp ripping into his side, as teeth shining bright appear front of him-

____

He hears his dad yell, and thrusts with his silver knife wildly, but the animal won't stop-

____

The teeth are there again, and Sam hears his heartbeat, and this is it-

____

White pain explodes behind his eyelids, the pressure on him is gone, as well as the beast. His hand is extended, and it drops to his side as he leans against the wall behind him, panting. The pain starts to dissolve, and he opens his eyes.

____

The second werewolf is on the floor, feets away from him, down the hallway. He doesn't know if it's dead or not. Realization settles in, and as the panic surges up and he turns to where he knows John is. 

____

His father is standing, eyes wide, the barrel of his gun pointed straight at him.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You knew I had to do it to 'em. We can't have decent kinda fluffy stuff for too long.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Your secrets keep you safe (your lies keep you alive)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's like there's cancer in my blood  
> It's like there's water in my lungs  
> And I can't take another step  
> Please tell me I am not undone  
> It's like there's fire in my skin  
> And I'm drowning from within  
> I can't take another breath  
> Please tell me I am not undone

It should've been quiet, the beating heart in his throat the only sound he heard. It was still, as if time was waiting for them, waiting for John to make a decision. 

The sweat on his back, on his palms, was the result of pure fear, fear Sam had never felt because of someone. He had been afraid the multiple times his brother or father had nearly died, but never had they been the direct reason of his fear. He stared at John, at his father, and his throat tightened, eyes threatening to burn.

Through childhood, Sam had seen lots of hunts, lots of scary things and seen many hunters and their behaviour towards the supernatural. Dean's eyes burned, his face was pretty much stone, and he never hesitated. John, on the other hand. His eyes were cold, mouth set into a thin line and his hands were steady. There was no warmth, nothing Sam was used to seeing in his father's eyes. No visible thoughts, no mercy, no love. 

"Where is he?" He couldn't help it, he flinched back. He had heard his dad angry, excited, stressed, proud and even happy. He had always known, always acknowledged the tone of voice his father used with supernatural, the somehow a little bitter, harsh, commanding tone. It was nothing compared to the tone they had heard during training, nothing compared to the drill sergeant his father could be. There was a clear line, for when John was talking to something human, and when he was talking to something supernatural. 

Right now, the tone was the latter.

The gun moving snapped him out of his thoughts, John taking a step closer, bringing the gun higher and aimed straight at his forehead. He inhaled sharply, afraid to move, afraid to speak. 

"I asked, where is he?" Sam felt shivers go down his spine, could feel something in his chest crack, start to crumble. There was no going back now. This was it. 

"I-It's me- Just p-please listen it's me I swear-" The trigger clicked and Sam hiccuped a sob, almost squeezing his eyes shut, not wanting the last image he sees be the brutal, cold face of his father. 

"My son isn't a monster." It cracked again, and Sam felt like screaming. Just please, God please, listen-

"Now, one last time. Where is he?" Tear slipped down his cheek, and Sam wanted to throw himself against John, to make him realize, to make him stop this before it'd all end. His heart was thumping, and it hurt. 

"Did you kill him?" A little waver, and Sam should feel happy he means something to John, but he can only silently cry, and already grieve. The clanging noise from the basement starts again, Dean had probably heard the fight and was now worried.

God, Dean.

It almost breaks him, right there, and it'd cost his life. His stomach jolts, he wants to throw up, wants to go to sleep and wish it all away. He can't lose his family, he can't-

"No. It's me, _please, Dad_ -" The finger twitches, and Sam snaps his eyes shut, ready for death. Time ticks and ticks, merciless, and the clanging gets louder. Please, please don't let Dean see his body-

"Don't. You're not my son." Something as if burning, and at the same time freezing surges around his body, and the pain disappears, enough for shock to break through. He knows he stumbled, but there is no mercy in his father's eyes. John won't see it, he will not want to see it, ever. It's over. He's lost his dad.

The gun goes away, but Sam doesn't relax. John uncaps the salt container on his belt, and with knife in other hand, a warning, he circles around Sam, trapping him into a salt circle. He straightens up, and something in Sam tells him this is it, this is goodbye. 

"Don't even try to run. I will hunt you down, and kill you." With narrowed, angered eyes John leaves him, and Sam still feels like he can't breath. He stares at the doorway, swallows around the lump in his throat, and runs for his life.

°°°

His hands won't stop shaking. His vision is blurry, even as he tries to blink as much as possible, but he has to watch the road. 

Driving the Impala should have been a milestone. Something he would've accomplished very soon, with Dean right there on the passanger seat, bright smile and giving instructions to him with never ending patience. His chest tightens, and Sam lets out a sob. The rumble of the engine, the sound that always meant home, meant Dean, doesn't spark anything but sorrow in him. 

He doesn't know how much time he has, how soon Dean and John will be after him, so he keeps the pedal down, speeding back to their motel. He knows what he's doing, even as the world around him is shattering, and he knows everything will change. Everything he's known, everyone he's known, is gone. 

He doesn't know how he'll cope.

He tries to calm his breathing, trying to look natural as he swerves into the parking lot. He tries to park with care, and to his blessing quickly sees no one around. There's no time for a goodbye, no time for hesitance. He runs his hand over the hood of the car, and whispers a quiet thank you. 

He pretty much sprints inside, and somehow he manages to open the lock with ease, even as his hands feel cold and won't stop their shaking. He doesn't look around, he doesn't want to see the remains of the life he has to run from, and heads straight for the bedroom. There isn't much to pack, he steals one of the motel's blankets, and heads into the living room quickly. 

He takes everything he can, leaving only little food for Dean and John. He takes the couple empty water bottles they have, and fills them with water, before taking the two full bottles of aspirin, leaving the half full one, if Dean is hurt after all. He can't afford to think about that now. Pushing his mind to work, he quickly thinks everything through, he should have the necessities for a while, so he won't starve or anything like that. He should go, he should run while he still has time. 

Cursing under his breath he pulls the notebook from his duffel, clicking the pen as he scrolls through it all. His visions, weird feelings, and everything is written down. Every little thing he has done wrong in his life is there. The girl he knew back in Kansas, Jane, would call it a suicide note, and Sam banishes the thought quickly. 

He starts writing, quicker than on any math test, and bites his lip. He has to keep his mind clear. He scribbles down the last lines, feeling his chest tighten almost unbearably, and leaves the notebook open on the table. There, he's done it. It's all out, and he won't be coming back ever again. To this place, or to the people he's leaving. 

Tears in his eyes, he leaves the motel room, thanking himself for studying the map in the reception, so he knows exactly where to head. He doesn't look over his shoulder, or around him, and forces himself to stop crying. He has to look at least slightly normal for people to believe him. He can't look like this. Furiously, he rubs his face, swiping the snot and tears away, cringing as his side flares up in protest at the movement. He forgot all about the scratches, damn it.

He keeps on walking, keeps his head down and avoids looking at people. Thankfully, since it's pretty late, there's barely no one out. He should've checked the time before he left, fuck, what if he's late? 

He starts jogging, and looks around him, trying to spot any sign that he might be already too late and should just accept the fact he is going to die. He can almost see the clock on the side of the building, and he picks up the pace. 

Thank God. 

He joins the small line, and luckily the people move quickly. He has some little spare time, maybe he can visit the bathroom before he goes. The closer he gets to the lady at the window, the stronger the smoke of smell grows. No surprise, since the lady is smoking one, and eyes Sam with the small suspicion he expected. Pulling a smile on, he shuffles on his feet a bit awkwardly, and tip toes so he can reach the height of the window.

"One ticket to Memphis, Tennessee please." The lady just huffs slightly, not smiling at all, and Sam feels a rock fall off his chest. He hands her the money, and quickly pockets his ticket. He looks around the small building, and walking to the side he spots the bathrooms. He still has some time left, and he heads into the bathrooms, hoping there won't be lot of people there.

The smell makes him scrunch his face up, urine and what else seems to smell everywhere, but there is no one, so Sam goes in and quickly pulls up his shirt, eyeing the smudged mirror. The scratches aren't deep, but they burn like a bitch, so they'll probably get infected since Sam can't treat them. He's hesitant to use the paper, but he takes the risk, wetting it under the sink before cleaning the area carefully. He throws the paper away, and carefully pulls his shirt back down, and exhales.

He looks at himself in the mirror, sees the evidence of his crying, his puffy eyes and rosy cheeks. His eyes burn again, and he looks away, breathing slowly. His chest aches, and his body hurts distantly, but it's nothing compared to the feeling of loosing his family. He shivers, and part of him screams to get back to Dean, to let the older wrap his arms around him, and promise him that everything will be alright, and that he'll never let anything hurt Sam. 

The last time Sam saw him, he was a bit pissed off that Dean was ditching their free night to go see some girl, instead of spending it with Sam. He hadn't even told Dean bye, when he left. That was the last time he'll probably ever see Dean, his Dean at least. If he'll ever see his family again, it'll be when he dies, and he doesn't want to see Dean look at him, like the monster he is. 

He shouldn't call them his family. They're normal, Sam isn't. He shouldn't bring the supernatural into their family name. 

God, he doesn't know what he did to deserve this. What something so terrible did he do, that he deserves to have his family ripped away from him, have Dean ripped away from him? What did he do wrong? He has killed only supernatural creatures, and not even that many. Five, counting the two werewolves tonight, if the other one died as well. Is it some fucked up way of justice? He kills the supernatural, so the universe turns it around, and makes him the hunted instead of the hunter. 

Does that mean he'll turn evil too? That he'll start killing people, with these, powers? That he'll actually become the things that deserve to be killed? 

He'd rather die.

Swiping the tears off his face, Sam inhales and exhales, rolling his shoulders and straightening up. He has to go. He walks out of the bathroom, and the bus is already there. He steps in, hands his ticket and settles into his seat, away from other people and possible conversation makers. The bus hisses, as the doors close, and Sam watches the trees pass, as they leave Breitung, Michigan and his family behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Hope you're all having a great Christmas, if you celebrate it. Hope you're all well, and healthy. Sorry to give you the angst on Christmas lol. 
> 
> If anyone ever needs to talk, you can message me in tumblr, I'll be more than happy to listen. @ithinkikindalikechocolate
> 
> Again, thank you for reading! Stay safe <3


	5. Walking with eyes blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tremble for yourself, my man  
> You know that you have seen this all before  
> Tremble, little lion man  
> You'll never settle any of your scores  
> Your grace is wasted in your face  
> Your boldness stands alone among the wreck  
> Now learn from your mother or else  
> Spend your days biting your own neck  
> But it was not your fault but mine  
> And it was your heart on the line  
> I really fucked it up this time  
> Didn't I, my dear?

The door creaked open, the lights in the basement on. Gun in his hand, John hurried down the creaking stairs. Luckily it was a small place, void of any more supernaturals, and it didn't take him long to spot Dean.

Dean, who was tied to some kind of pipe, mouth muffled by some rag, eyes wide as John hurried to him. Not wanting to turn his back, in case the thing was coming after him, John kept his gun pointed towards the stairs, other one ripping the rag away from Dean's mouth, who spit it out with a disgusted sound. 

"How many bloody things are there, Dad?" Was the first question Dean asked. God, he hated all the questions. He had enough of it with Sam, who wouldn't just shut up, babbling about some useless history facts he found out in school. Or the kid would keep bugging John about the hunt, asking him all these questions till he had to tell the kid to shut up, which caused Dean to frown at him. 

"Listen, Dean. Sam's upstairs-"

"You brought Sam on a hunt with werewolves?!" Dean yelled immediately back, and John lost it.

"Shut it! Sam's upstairs and there's something wrong with him. I think he was possessed by some ghost back in Bayport. Did he seem any different?" He asked, Dean just blinking at him, mouth open. He shook him by the shoulders, and that seemed to snap him out of it.

"No, no uh, nothing at all. You sure he's possessed?" Dean asked, frowning as he gnawed on his lip. A habit John hadn't been able to teach out of him. When will they grow up, Mary?

He huffed, annoyed, "Yes, I'm sure Dean. The thing's upstairs, trapped in a salt circle, let's go." Dean shook his newly freed hands, and got up, seemingly fine. John was about to ask him, when a familiar engine burst to life outside the house. 

"Trapped, huh?!" Dean yelled, as John cursed and sped up the stairs. How did the damn thing get out?! He ran through the house, gun in hand. The other werewolf was still down, apparently dead, and the salt circle was untouched as he sprinted out of the door, just quick enough to see the Impala's headlights curve onto the main road. He aimed, finger on the trigger, before he cursed, lowering his gun. It was too far, damn it!

Dean catched up to him, and of course started ringing his mouth. "What the fuck, Dad! You said he's possessed, but there they fucking go, in the 'pala for fuck's sake!" 

"Get back in, and check if the werewolves are alive. I need to figure out what this damn thing is." He growled, and luckily Dean left him be, going back inside. John looked around, but there was nothing at all that could give him a clue. How had he missed Sam getting possessed right under his nose?! How had Dean missed it? Damn kid was too busy partying, Sam was his responsibility for Christ's sake. He'd have to talk about it later. Now they have to figure out where that thing is going, what it is, and how to kill it. 

He walked back in, as Dean came back from upstairs, heading towards the other body. John checked the circle, and it was indeed untouched. Not a specle of salt in the wrong place. How had it got out? He didn't think it could've broken the circle, left it, and then pushed the salt back to it's place. The thing knew he was onto it, so it was probably running as far as possible. 

"Dead, both of them. Now, want to explain to me what happened?" Dean approached him, and John grunted, trying to make sense of this all. They had to get after it, as soon as possible, but first they needed to know how to kill it. Silver should do, at least with most things. 

"We have nothing to take care of the bodies with, go find a shovel so we can at least get them out of sight." He felt Dean's annoyance, but the boy could wait. He didn't have patience for the never-ending questions, they had a hunt to do.

°°°

It didn't take long, for once, to get rid of the bodies, and even less time for them to find a ride. A farmer from close by agreed to take them to the motel they were staying in, and didn't even want money. They thanked him, and John prepared for the mass of questions as they exited the car. He scanned the parking lot, and to his big surprise, found the Impala parked, engine off. Cutting off whatever Dean was about to ask, he pointed at the car, and slowly pulled out his gun, getting closer. 

The driver seat seemed empty, but John didn't take the risk. Everything seemed clear, and John nodded towards the trunk of the car. Settling next to it, he checked they weren't being watched, and Dean popped the trunk open. It was empty.

"What is this thing? It returned the car, and then took off again. Why didn't it kill you, and why would it even come join you on a hunt instead of taking off?" John hummed, and they walked towards their room. At least they had a car now.

"Don't know Dean. Any ideas?" He asked back, not liking the tone of his oldest child. Dean narrowed his eyes,  
"Well I could if you'd tell me what the hell happened. Sam hasn't been acting any weirder than usual, he's been crossing our salt lines, handled silver, everything. So what happened, huh?" John didn't bother to mind Dean on his tone. When he was set on something, his stubborness could outrun Sam's. He pushed away the small feel of worry, the kid was fine.

"Your brother and I figured out where the werewolves lived. Checked the house, and Sam killed the other one. We thought there was only one werewolf, so the other got a drop on us. It attacked him, and before it bit the thing pretending to be your brother launched it across the hallway. It didn't push it, or anything, so I thought it was a ghost. I pulled the gun on it, asked where Sam was and it wouldn't tell me. Made the salt circle around it and poof, the fucker was gone when we get back." John rubbed his forehead. Dean stayed quiet for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed. He was anxious, John knew that. Dean was still babying Sam, who needed to grow up and stop letting his brother mother hen him all the time. 

"It didn't try to defend itself, or anything?" 

"Oh it did, made a whole show about it. Tried to make me believe it was Sam. Hell, I don't know what the thing is, but the most important thing is that we find it, before it hurts anyone. I don't know why it didn't attack me or you, but we need to kill it before it changes it's mind. We have to figure out where Sam is, or if that thing is Sam but just possessed, and how to get rid of it. I know you worry for your brother, but he's old enough to take care of himself." Dean narrowed his eyes, jaw shifting and John knew he said the wrong thing.

"He's fourteen for Christ's sake! He's in the middle of a grow spurth, has migraines almost all the time, and the kid is a trouble magnet! I know he can take care of himself but he doesn't have to! We're supposed to have his back." Dean raised his voice, and John stood up from his seat, staring at the kid.

"Don't lecture me on how Sam is and how he isn't. He's my son, I know him. You have to stop babying him, or he won't ever grow up! He's in some dreamlands all the time, and he's going to get either of us killed with that!" Dean stood up too, eyes wide and angry. 

"And you told him that, huh? Didn't you?! All the kid fucking wants is for you to listen to him! He's smart, he's a good hunter but you won't give him any credit for it!" John felt his anger rise, gritting his teeth.

"He isn't a good hunter if he gets one of us killed! I'll give him credit when he starts to act like one, instead of being a selfish brat!" The table croaked under Dean's fist, his body slightly shaking from anger. 

"Sam's the farthest thing from selfish! The kid would do anything for either of us, without being asked to! How many times has he tried to talk to you about something Dad? It's no wonder he doesn't want to talk to you when you treat him like shit! Sam's different, and you know it. He needs words, not some beers and a pat on the shoulder, Dad." His anger didn't calm down. How dare Dean try and lecture him about how to raise his own son? Sam was just difficult, and he better grow out of it soon, or-

"Wait, Dad?" The complete U-turn in Dean's voice caught his attention. The kid was by the table, staring at some notebook splayed open. One of Sam's? He walked closer, but before he could read what was written on it, Dean backed off.

"What the fuck? What the fuck is that?" Panic. He rarely heard that in Dean's voice. The older didn't flinch from anything at all, even the most disgusting monsters. 

John steps by the book, curious to know what could shake Dean. As his eyes trail through it, his gut clenches. This isn't possible.

°°°

The motel room's quiet. A rather big change from what it was only fifteen minutes ago. John left, probably to drink, or something as useless, leaving Dean by himself. He's sitting on the floor, staring up at the table, seeing the edge of the notebook. He hasn't got up from where he had to sit, after scrolling through the book.

He can't believe this. There's no way. This is just some stupid, prolonged nightmare he has to wake up from. He's going to wake up, Sam's going to be here, he's going to be alright, probably pissy about how long it took Dean to wake up. Maybe he hit his head, and is in a coma?

God, this can't be happening.

It all makes sense. Why does it all make sense? If he's dreaming, or whatever, it shouldn't make sense. So why is it making sense?!

The weirdness, the hiding, the headaches, the bleeding nose, the late-night-  
' _Am I a good person, Dean?_

_Why would you even ask that, Sammy?_

_Someone giving you trouble?_

_No, it's just... Forget it._

_Kid, you're the greatest person I know, kay?_

_Sammy?_

_Okay, Dean. Thanks._

_Don't mention it.'_

It all made sense.

The dates were there, the towns were there. There were mentions of what they had done, what they were hunting. Every little thing was written down in Sam's handwriting, which Dean always annoyed him with. Dean had watched the barely straight, scrabbled lines that were supposed to be letters, turn into this smooth, kinda nice handwriting, and it still felt hilarious how the clumsy, pen-eating Sammy could write like that.

The things, visions, like Sam had called them, were all written down. Detailed telling of their hunt in Midland, Michigan, which Dean could remember all too clearly. He could remember Sam's face as the ghost dragged him away, his own fear that almost made him throw up later with Sam. He could remember the scraping of Sam's boots he could hear as the ghost strangled him, the odd look the kid had on his face after they got back, and how he'd locked himself into the bathroom, assuring Dean he was fine. 

The near accident back in Bayport, which also could've cost him his baby brother's life, was too written down. However, it had been written down before it even happened, after the weird migraine Sam had had during the night. Dean had woken up to an empty bed, God knows how Sam manages to wiggle out of his grasp, or why he even does it, and had found his little brother in the bathroom, companied by a headache and a nosebleed. The note about the near accident had been continued, after it had nearly happened, with Sam reporting everything was fine, and that in fact it was him in danger, which was for some stupid reason underlined as a 'good' thing.

Where did they go wrong?

What had he done, to drive Sam away from him? Sam, who always told him everything, even if it sometimes needed some prying. The same kid who still made him birthday cards, and even cards for Father's and Mother's day, which Dean also had all stashed. John didn't know about those, and it was for the better. How could Dean have let this happen? How could he have let Sam slip through his fingers, make his kid believe they would kill him for something he had no power over? How could he have screwn up so fucking badly?

He pressed a fist against his forehead, willing the tears to stay in. Crying wouldn't help getting Sam back. He could be anywhere. And John spewing all that shit on him wouldn't help them at all. How could he let this happen?

"Fuck!" He cursed, trying to calm his anger down. It wouldn't help Sam either. Fuck, it even might be partly at fault with the kid leaving. With John only yelling at him, and Dean fighting with John, no wonder the kid felt bad. Sam took everything to heart, he wanted to fix everything, no matter how much pain it'd bring on himself. It was a trait Dean had tried to fiercely protect, to keep him safe from everyone who wanted to hurt him, but apparently he should've kept Sam safe from John and him. 

He'll be better. He'll be better when he gets Sam back, he promises. He'll make this alright, and he'll never allow this to happen again. 

"God, Sammy. If I had known things were this bad-" He cuts off. There's no use to apologise to thin air. There's no one here to hear him cry about how bad of a big brother he is. He's supposed to protect the kid, keep him safe till he's old and grey. How is this keeping him safe, huh? Driving him away, out into the world, alone, without anyone to have his back, when he's only fourteen? 

Sam doesn't deserve this, he doesn't deserve to have John or Dean in his life. When he finds the kid, and if he hates him, Dean will have to let him go. But he'll make sure Sam won't be alone, even if it'll kill him to not have his brother with him. He loves the kid too much, but it's enough to let him go if he needs to go without him.

They'll have to start with bus stations, diners and truck stops. He doesn't think Sam would go with a stranger, not after what Dean has taught him, but the kid probably also has no money on him. 

God, he's going to starve out there? He's alone, and he's going to starve by some road, and someone will find his body, and maybe Dean and John will find out or maybe he's already dead in some ditch and Dean will never know-

Stop it, stop it stop it stop it.

He leans against the table, stares at the goodbye in front of him. Tears blur his vision, and he let's himself cry for now. Can't do anything before John gets back. 

Just, someone, keep his baby brother safe till Dean finds him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am starting to hate John...  
> So, another chapter out. John and Dean find the notebook, everything falls together, and Sam's still on the run. Next chapter will be Sam's POV again. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and for all the comments, they make my day. Hope you're all well <3


	6. Wake up (I am still yours)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for depressive and suicidal thoughts
> 
> Plans of what our futures hold  
> Foolish lies of growing old  
> It seems we're so invincible  
> The truth is so cold  
> A final song, a last request  
> A perfect chapter laid to rest  
> Now and then I try to find a place in my mind  
> Where you can stay you can stay awake forever

Sam yawns, can't stop it in time. It's probably the seventh yawn in the past fifteen minutes, if the shifty look the waitress gives him is any clue. He can't help it, he's tired, end of the story. He continues eating, the plastic fork cutting into his hand almost uncomfortably. 

It was some kind of a sale day, there was no other way for Sam to afford eating in a diner. But now the foods were half price, and even if that was a bit suspicious, Sam wouldn't look into the gift horse's mouth, he could use some real food. 

Arkansas was treating him well, for now at least. After traveling for couple of days, he felt safe enough to spend a night in a motel by the road, instead of sleeping his neck craned into a bad position in some bus. He had been hyper aware the first and second day, each rumble of engine or gruff voice almost giving him a heart attack. For now, he thinks he's remotely safe, after criss-crossing around the country to shake Dean and John off his tail. 

The chicken turns bitter in his mouth, and he swallows dryly. He doesn't want to think about them, and he won't. He starts to pull the wallet from the duffel by his side, eyeing the snacks by the counter. He could use some crackers, they gave him enough of energy without being too expensive, and he will run out of money very soon. One of the reasons he's trying to stay around the middle of the country or the southern part, since there had been snowflakes back up in Minnesota a while back. Winter's coming, and Sam doesn't have the necessities to survive it.

He stands up, flinching a bit as the bell by the door rings, a couple of some truckers entering. He hurries to the desk, and the blonde waitress approaches him, a friendly smile on her face. Dean would hit on her, he knows for sure, and instead of the remind being familiar, it brings a pang of pain. 

"Hi, uh, I'd like that bag of crackers, thanks." He shuffles, using his age for his advantage. He's gotten a bit of pity points through his wondering with some shuffling, avoiding eye contact, but ending with a bright smile. He feels only a bit bad, but why wouldn't he use his advantages when he's battling the world?

The waitress, Linda, picks up the bag, handing it over and Sam pays, saying goodbye with a big smile on his face. It falls, as he steps outside, looking around. He isn't far from the city, and he heads on to the road, careful. Some people just can't follow the speed limits, and it's been a bit of a close call couple of times. The rocks under his feet crackle, and Sam hoists his duffel a bit higher up his shoulder. He tries to make some kind of a budget for the rest of his money. The motel is going to cost him, as well as next morning's bus ride. By the time he arrives in Louisiana's almost too familiar Lafayette, he'll still have some time to search for some odd jobs to get him a bit more money. He can't do anything too big, he has to avoid being noticed, more even as Lafayette has been a bit of a hunter's passthrough, and right now he fears hunters more than the other supernaturals.

He kicks a rock, and tries to ignore the growing pain in his chest.

°°°

It's a relief, more than a relief, to actually get to lie in a proper bed. The room had cost him less than he had expected, which is always a pleasant surprise. The man at the desk had swallowed his lie of waiting for his dad to arrive, and gave him the keys. The man had said that if he needed anything till his dad comes, he can come ask him, which was a bit suspiciously nice.

Otherwise, the place seems decent. The salt he had stolen from the diner he's lined by the door, can't afford to line the window too, and there's already an existing padlock on the door. He has nothing to do a devil trap with, so he'll just have to cross his fingers and hope no demons come knocking. He has some food he'll probably cook in the morning and take with him for the trip, and now he'll have to start thinking about a job.

He can't be a cashier, too public and he's too young as well. Mowing the lawn could be a job, but it's already near winter, so he doesn't think there's much lawns to mow. Shit, what's he going to do?

He'll figure something out, he can do this.

He can do this.

°°°

_"You're a monster, Sam."_

_"You're one of the things we hunt, no different from a damn vampire."_

_He's shaking his head, the pain in his chest suffocating him, something trailing down the side of his head. He stares up at those green eyes, feels his heart break as they stare at him with no love. His mouth is open, but no words are coming out, and he tries to scream-_

_"No one will hear you."_

_"You deserve this."_

_A hand is over his mouth, something pressing against him and Sam pushes with all he can, kicking and screaming but no sound comes out, his kicks loosing their power, his body starting to go limp. He falls against the wall, tears streaming down his face._

_Dean stands over him, gun in hand, and the click of a trigger is a sound that welcomes him with open arms._

Sam gasps awake, his body flunging out of the bed. The air is cold against his cold sweat body, and he can't breathe, the walls around him moving and getting closer-

His knees scrape against the floor, and he scrambles away from where the other bed should be, and stares at the dark room front of him. Goosebumps run up his arms, hair standing up as he stares the vacant space. There is no other bed. There is no Dean.

He slumps, a puppet with it's strings cut. A sob breaks out, and he shivers, wrapping his arms around himself as he rocks back and forth. The tears that burn in his eyes now run free, dripping down from his jaw to his chest, and on the knees pulled against him. He tries to breathe, but he can't forget the pressure around him, the suffocating air that won't let him breathe, and he can't stop hyperventilating. 

He pushes himself up, trying to move his hyperventilating away, and with trembling hands he puts on the lamp on his nightstand. He leans against the bed, muffling his sobs and shaking inhales into it. He grips the sheets, his head buzzing from the panic, the fear, the agony. He bites down to muffle the sound that breaks out of his throat, his whole body in pain as he fights to get air into his body. 

_"You deserve this."_

_"You're a monster."_

He shakes his head, desperate and cries as his head buzzes louder, his arms starting to tingle as he tries to calm himself, the scratches on his side flaring up in pain. 

He's a monster.

He deserves this.

He deserves to die like a monster.

The cry breaks out of his heaving chest, and the buzz in his head disappears at the same time as a sharp cracking noise breaks out, and the light from the room is gone. He flinches, jumping a bit, and raises his head. Heart beating in his throat, he stares at the lamp on his nightstand, the bulb now broken into small, sharp pieces. He inhales a shaky breath, and moves closer to the lamp. Turning it off, he leans back against the bed, staring at the broken bulb, at the pieces. 

That had never happened before. 

He stares at his hands, shifting his jaw around.

They were right.

He isn't normal, he isn't alright. He's a monster, supernatural, and he's dangerous. He'll get someone killed, just like John always told him. He deserves it, all of it. He'll end up bad, evil, tainted like he always knew he was. He knew there was something wrong, something twisted in his very own body. God, if he had known, this all could've been avoided. There had been so many opportunities, so many close calls with Death Sam could've used. If only he had known sooner, he could've taken the burden off his family.

Dean doesn't deserve this, he doesn't deserve Sam. The freak, the too sensitive kid that never listened, never was Daddy's perfect little soldier, always too strange, too passionate about everything but hunting. The sacrifices Dean has done for him, the older is probably full of glee now, that he can finally kill him without having to come up with an excuse.

Dean never had a childhood, because of him. He got into trouble, because of him. He'll never be happy, as long as Sam is there to drag him down. 

Tears slide down his cheeks, and Sam wonders what else is wrong with him. What else he has done wrong, screwed up left and right? Just how many lives he's ruined? He thinks that John's life might've been ruined the second their Mom died, in Sam's nursery when he was only six months old.

His mind stops it's whirring, like into a wall. The breath in his throat gets caught, and he feels the edge of desperation hit. No, it can't actually, it can't be his doing as well. It can't be.

Mom, Dean's mom, John's wife, burned up in Sam's nursery when he was six months old. The small things he knows, is that it was a yellow eyed demon, in Sam's nursery, and Mom had been pinned above him, bleeding and frozen in place. Dad had got him, given him to Dean and God how big of a mistake that was, before he had tried to save Mom one last time. The fire had spread, and in the end all they were left with was a bunch of ashes that had fallen down from the ceiling, _above Sam, above Sam,_ and a bunch of officers who could explain nothing, who could only give their condolences.

Why had the demon been there? Why had he been in Sam's room? Why was it there, why exactly when he was six months old, why did it kill Mom? 

The only answer that he has, is the one that brings more pain than any gut punch he's ever received. He doubles even more over, digging his teeth into his bare knee, hugging his knees so tight his arms hurt from where his bones press against each other. 

He hears his own pulse in his ears, traitorous, deceiving, evil, and wonders how he ever thought Dean could love him, when he got his mother killed. Dean's mom, when he was only four years old. He's responsible for all of this, and the guilt hits him all at once, and Sam squeezes his eyes shut, willing his powers to end themselves, even if it means taking his life in the process.

°°°

"You got the ticket, kid?" He flinches, pulling the piece of paper out of his pocket with a forced, apologetic smile. He finds a seat close, the bus slightly more crowded than usual. His leg bounces up and down quickly, but he tries to keep it quiet, eyes locked with the back of another seat front of him. 

He didn't sleep any more, the realization leaving him hollow. He hadn't even cooked as he had planned, since he wasn't so sure anymore that he should carry on running. He should maybe just call someone, and get them to finish the job. It'd be easier, to get it over with before anything bad happens.

There's a buzz in his head, a start of a headache, and he feels shivers go down his spine, again. A part of him is screaming that something is wrong, something is so terribly wrong, and he needs to move this instant. The other part of him is drowning from guilt, and simply doesn't care any more. The bus doors close, and with a hiss they start moving, Lafayette only hours away. He can deal with couple of hours, maybe. Only if his head would shut up.

Sam sighs, and closes his eyes, he might as well catch some shut-eye.

°°°

The phone rings, Dean immediately flunging his head up from where it was fixated on a map. John stands up, walking over to the kitchen counter, and picks up his phone, hope in his chest making him giddy. It's quickly to dim, and he sighs, and Dean takes that as another no, focusing back on the map. 

He accepts the call from Joshua, maybe the hunter has some info on Sam, he wouldn't probably be calling at this hour otherwise. 

_"John?"_

"Yep, you got anything?"

It's quiet for a while, and John frowns. He shifts, and Dean looks at him, eyebrow up. 

"Joshua?"

_"God, John... It's Sam."_

He straightens up, his chest unclenching.

"You know where he's headed? Give me the town and we'll meet you there, maybe we can find him before-"

_"Stop- just stop."_

He stares at Dean, who has walked closer, arms crossed and eyes filled with what John thinks is uneasiness. It doesn't calm his own nerves, the blood rushing into his head. His gut is clenching, and he feels a cold grip around his heart.

_"I tracked- I tracked Sam to Arkansas, Bryant. He had stayed a night, and took the morning bus to Louisiana. He's-"_

_"...John, they got a 911 call ten minutes ago, the bus was hit by a truck, and it sled down a cliff. There's- there's no survivors-"_

His knees buckle, and the phone clatters to the ground. He sees Dean rush forward, and the gut wrenching pain that makes him want to throw up, hits him all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhhh, sorry?   
> The warnings on this book are still accurate.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. A picture of me (without you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for suicidal thoughts
> 
> The preacher came by Sunday  
> Said he missed me at the service  
> He told me Jesus loves me  
> But I'm not sure I deserve it  
> 'Cause the faithful man that you loved  
> Is nowhere to be found  
> Since they took all that he believed  
> And laid it in the ground  
> You left my heart as empty  
> As a Monday morning church  
> It used to be so full of faith and now it only hurts  
> And I can hear the devil whisper  
> "Things are only getting worse"  
> You left my heart as empty  
> As a Monday morning church  
> I still believe in Heaven  
> And I'm sure you've made it there  
> But as for me without your love, dear  
> I don't have a prayer

It's not ending. It's supposed to end, supposed to stop at some point. It's supposed to disappear, leave him alone, but it isn't. It isn't, and Dean can't understand. He knows how nightmares work, he knows that at some point you wake up, and it'll all be gone. He isn't waking up, and this isn't leaving him. 

It's never going to end, a part of him reminds, and Dean closes his eyes again. He doesn't know what the time is, nor cares. He doesn't know where John went, and doesn't care.

The only thing he knows, is that Sam is dead.

The tears slip past his eyelids, joining the countless others staining their sheets. He feels worse than when he got torn by a werewolf, worse than when Mom died. He can't, won't lift his head, he just wants to wake up, because this can't be his reality. The rest of his life won't be this, God, please it can't be this. His hand is still trembling, the other one digging still into his side from where it's wrapped around his body. He can't sleep, because there is no body next to him, and no one to keep close, _keep safe._

He was supposed to keep him safe.

Dean was supposed to protect him, keep him safe and happy, and more importantly alive. He's seen countless nightmares of it happening, but it had always been brushed aside by how many nightmares Sam had of him dying. He could remember the nights, especially when the kid was younger, below ten, Dean waking up to a small bundle of shaking and loudly crying Sam, soothe him for hours till he'd fall asleep again, wrapped around Dean tightly. He'd keep him close, against his chest from where he could feel his heartbeat, head tucked beneath his chin so he can watch over both of them. Their legs would be tangled into a mess, accidentally kicking each other but neither of them ever cared. He'd keep his arms around the kid, keep him as close as possible, and he would feel at peace, knowing he had Sam in his arms.

It feels like something is clawing his throat, ripping his rib cage out and squeezing every inch of life he had out of him. He's loosing his mind, can't stop the tears, doesn't know how he can ever feel alright again. It feels like he's the one dying. Except Sam is already dead, and the reminder makes more blood flood his mouth as he digs into his already bleeding lip.

Sam is already dead, he's already gone, cold, unmoving, as dead as the people in the cemeteries. He's already dead, and there were no goodbyes, no words Dean never said enough, no comfort, because he knows Sam is afraid, and God he must've been afraid. Dean won't ever be able to tell him he's sorry, it's going to be alright, or that he loves him more than anything and anything he ever will. He can't tell him that he means more than the world to him, that he's so proud of him, or that he'll see him soon again. 

He can't do it without Sam, he's known this ever since he was seven, and Sam who still occasionally stumbled when walking had found him in the bathroom, crying. He had settled onto Dean's lap, taken the bottle of rattling pills away from his hands, hugged him till Dean hugged back. Then he had realized that there won't be a world without Sam. He can't do it without Sam, with his never-ending love and nerdy facts, passionate ramblings about some new book, and bravery Dean has never seen in anyone else. The kid could face down the scariest thing and still pull through, still be the same bright-eyed kid Dean fell in love with.

The same kid who would defend him at any chance, who would fight Dad even more if it meant easing Dean's life in any possible way. Sacrifice his own money, clothes, food, anything, to make Dean happier. He'd use the money he earned from odd jobs to buying Dean a ticket to some concert, and always turned him down when Dean begged him to come with in return, claiming the concerts were too loud and would destroy his brain, aside from Dean who apparently had no left. He would lie to Dad, which was one of the bravest things anyone can ever do, to get Dean off the hook for training so he can go see some girl he might like, or he can go out and party like everyone else in his age. He didn't know how Sam could feel guilt for that, guilt for 'forcing' Dean to stay instead of going partying, when Sam couldn't convince Dad that he can manage on his own. As if having some good alone time with his baby brother wasn't the greatest way to spend time. As if seeing Sam smile and laugh wasn't as good as getting drunk or fucking some girl. He wouldn't pick anything, anyone, over Sam, over his brother and his other half. 

And Dean drove him away. He drove him away just like he promised he never would. He picked some girl over Sam, who he knew was upset about it, even if he tried to hide it. They hadn't even exchanged byes, nothing at all, and the last time Dean had seen Sam he had driven him away for the last time. Because he could never make this right. He could never tell how sorry he is, how much he loves him, and how nothing in the world could ever make him hate him. He'd rather doom the entire world to die, than kill Sam.

And still, he did just that.

It wouldn't have mattered any more or less if Dean had been the one driving the truck, sending Sam down a cliff, away and down down down, out of Dean's reach and to his death. He might've as well been the one to break his brother's bones, back, skull, neck, everything the crash broke, with his own hands while staring at the life leaving those eyes Dean could never deny, never hate, never stop loving. 

Dean sent him down that path, sent him away without any love or guilt, forced his fourteen-year-old brother to run away from everything he had known, everything that was familiar and safe, because Sam thought they wanted him dead.

Well now he's dead and Dean will never see him again. Not that he would probably even want to, from what Joshua had described when the victim's loved ones had gone to identify, most hadn't been able to not throw up. It was brutal, terrible and would make the newspapers for a couple of days, maybe even some weeks, before it'd all disappear, as if it didn't happen, as if Dean didn't lose everything in that crash. 

He can never make it right, can never fix things, will never see Sam's smile that brought him to life, ever again. He won't feel the happiness he gets whenever the kid makes something totally awesome for him, the fondness of their too rare serious conversations, the warmth that could keep him warm at the bottom of the ocean, when he has Sam in his arms. He won't feel the moments of proudness when the kid aces another test he was stressed about, proves Dad wrong again, solves some big mystery or shows again how much better Sam is than the world around him. He'll never have someone understand him the way Sam does, know each and every of his little quirks, triggers or sore spots. No one will ever know what to say to make him laugh while crying, stop yelling in anger, pull him back from when he wants to kill someone for touching his little brother, how to make him happy. 

God, he wants to make it all go away. He wants it to end, wants the reality to leave him alone before he looses it for good. 

He wants Sam alive.

It doesn't matter if he hates him, doesn't matter if he wants to kill him for what he's done, if he never wants to see him again, if he crushes Dean's little heart he's held in his hands into small pieces and burns them. He wants Sam alive, because then he'd still be a big brother, he'd have someone he can brag about, someone he can talk about for hours, someone he will always love unconditionally, and someone who has loved him for who he is, even if it would be in the past. 

Sam would be alive, he would grow up to be the best person Dean knows, would even maybe go to college, get that damn degree he's quietly dreamed about with Dean. He would find friends, someone to have his back, someone he can mother hen over. He would astonish people, no matter where he goes, with his kindness, loyalty, bravery, intelligence, and ability to make it all better. Everyone would love him, he'd be the talk of the town and of the girls, he'd ace every single test or project in his school, like everything he does with passion. Maybe he'd find someone to spend his life with, someone he can be happy with, stay safe and love. Have someone love him the way he deserves to be loved. And even, maybe, just maybe, some day he'd remember his big brother, who had sworn to take care of him, but who let him down every single time. 

What's he supposed to do? There is no need for him to try and make the world a better place, it can't be without Sam in it. If he'd hunt, Dean knows it wouldn't be hunting, he'd let himself get torn into pieces just so that he doesn't have to live in a world without Sam. There's nothing for him. Even if he drank all of the world's beer and whiskey, he can never forget what he's done, can never escape the life he's made for himself, can never forgive himself for taking a life that mattered more than anything else, more than his could ever. Sam made him better, made him someone even somewhat decent, gave him a purpose, something he can do and never let himself down. He gave him a job, but a job is something people associate with tiredness, and something they're forced to do. Sam was never a job.

He was a gift that kept on giving every single second. He'd keep on giving love and life everywhere around him, would dig his own heart out and hand it over, to make someone happy. He would remind Dean of what living meant, just by existing when Dean considered who would look after Sam when he was gone. He showed him how to live, and now he showed him how to die.

There is a weight against his chest he wants to rip off, wants to throw away, bury into the ocean and never see again. He wants to burn the memory away of his mind, doesn't want to see it play in his memories, in his dreams he wishes he could live again. Doesn't want to hold the token of love and appreciation from his baby brother he killed.

_"He isn't going to come, is he?" Dean sighs, hearing the defeat. He gathers himself, turns around to smile at Sam, whose eyes that had been glowing happy only an hour ago, now look at him with defeat and sadness. His smile wavers, and he walks to the kid, sitting down by his side._

_"He's just late, Sammy, he'll show up." He tries, knowing he's only repeating himself, which Sam quickly points out._

_"You've been saying that for the entire night, Dean. He said he'd come." Dean feels his own chest tighten at hearing Sam's voice, hearing the sadness in it. He wraps an arm around the kid's shoulders, pulling him close. He's used to Dad's empty promises, but he had thought that for once the man would keep his word, just for Sam's sake. The kid had been really hyped about this year's Christmas, for some reason, and to see him so defeated now really makes his heart tug._

_"I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm sure he tried his best. You want some eggnog?" He asks, tries to get Sam's mind off it. It only does so little, but Sam's lips twitch, which is as close to victory he can now get._

_"Yeah, thanks Dean. Sorry I'm being all mopey." He's already walking to the table, pouring both of them a glass of the a little more expensive eggnog he had got them, putting his odd job money finally to good work, even if Sam tried to protest. He didn't want the kid worrying about money, he didn't want Sammy to worry about anything, just wanted him to get a childhood as normal as possible._

_"I'm used to it, squirt. I'm your big brother, aren't I?" Sam laughs, not the usual bright and happy sound, but a little better, and Dean hands him the eggnog. It's alright, even if Dad failed again. He'll take Sam's mind off it, maybe they'll watch some Christmas movies till it's way too late, and Sam will probably fall asleep on the couch again, but Dean doesn't mind. The kid is too light still, even if Dean tries to stuff him full of food every chance he gets. They money's tight, has always been, but it shouldn't be so tight that Sam doesn't get enough food._

_Sam puts the glass down, little shit downed the entire thing in one go, but before Dean can comment on it, Sam leans back, bumping their shoulders together._

_"Yeah, and you're the best big brother there is." He almost swallows wrong, the way Sam says it so casually, without any strain or any idea of how he just made Dean's day, hell, probably even his whole year, and next year as well. He knows he's smiling a bit too bright, but Sam doesn't judge, just chuckles a bit, before he suddenly bolts off the couch and into their bedroom. Dean places his glass down, prepared to go after him, check what's wrong. Had Dad not showing up been a bigger hit than Dean thought? Shit, he has to fix this._

_He stands up, but before he can move, Sam is coming back, hands hidden behind his back, a little anxious, small smile on his face. Dean's instantly suspicious, because Sam doesn't get anxious around him, he shouldn't get anxious around him. He opens his mouth, but again Sam beats him to it, eyes locked with the floor as if it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen._

_"I uh, couldn't get anything special since, you know, I don't have that much money but, uh... Uncle Bobby offered to help me out, and don't worry I'll help him with some yard work when we get to see him again.... But yeah, uh, this is for you." He brings his hands out, opens his palms. Dean leans in closer, curious as he is astounded, and feels his throat tighten. Inside Sammy's little hands is a necklace, black cord and what looks like a little humanoid head made out of what he guesses is brass. His mouth is hanging open, a bit too overwhelmed by this kid who he doesn't deserve to have._

_"It's an amulet, well, you can probably see that. Bobby found it in some store, it should be good to go and uh, it's apparently some African tribal adornment... I know it's not much-" Dean physically jumps closer, and Sam's eyes snap to him, wide open._

_"No, no no, it's, it's the greatest thing I've ever gotten" The words threaten to choke up, and tries to pull through, he can think about how much he loves this kid later._

_"Thank you, Sammy." And there's the smile, the smile that lits up Dean's world and life. God, he really doesn't deserve this kid and his love. He wraps his arms around Sam, who hugs him back, even if a bit awkwardly. He smells of the shampoo from the last motel, the distant smell Dean knows is coming from one of his own old shirts Sam is 'borrowing'. He tucks the kid under his chin, and he smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. He pulls back before it gets too chick-flick, but doesn't stop smiling as Sam loops the cord around his neck, that small, shy but still happy smile on his face. Dean promises right there and then, he'll never stop loving that smile, his kid._

The tears have ran out, again, and Dean only feels hollow. He feels empty, even with the memory playing in his mind. He can remember that evening clearer than anything else, can remember the great time they had watching movies, before Sam had fallen asleep, drooling on Dean's shoulder. He had carried the kid to bed, checked the salt, doors and windows, before joined him in the bed, not taking his amulet off. 

The amulet that still lies against his chest, one of the few things he has of Sam. With how much he loves the kid, he sure doesn't have much evidence of it, does he? 

Dean wraps his aching hand around the amulet, feels it's familiar thorns prickle his palm, and closes his eyes. He imagines Sam in his arms, right here and right now, the kid's puffy breaths one of the few sounds in the night. He imagines he still has his brother, who he loves more than life, and promises to himself, come tomorrow, he'd fix this. One last tear slides down his cheek against his damp pillow, as Dean's breathing evens out, the eighteen-year-old falling into a quiet, calm sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....it's probably bad that this is the easiest kind of chapters for me.... Yeah, sad shit, sorry for that.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Love you all.


	8. I'll turn out the lights tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you god or devil, ghost disheveled  
> Childhood friend or drunken revel  
> I cannot stop I'm bleeding out for you  
> You angel heart you monster oh  
> Some godforsaken Prospero  
> Your feathers and your paws  
> Your hell for leather applause  
> You dance on tables, endless labels  
> Are you Cain cos I'm not Abel  
> Your bastard lasting night bus asking  
> What's the everlasting fable

The whiskey burned his throat, and he swallowed, but it did nothing to remove the tightness. He didn't know what to do, rage or cry. He knew that Dean was in the next room, he knew his kid was crying, and there was nothing he could do.

God, he had failed, he had failed so badly. 

Sammy, little ball of stubborness, passion and drive was gone. Little Sammy, with his mother's characteristics, his stubborness, and those big hazel eyes that were always thirsty for knowledge. Was it about a hunt, about a myth, about math, it didn't matter. 

He brushed a hand across his face, hiding his face from the world. He had let them down, he had let his family down. His throat burned, and the choked sobs from the bedroom did nothing but hurt him even more. Dean wasn't going to bounce back from this, after all John's forced his kids to go through, this just might be enough to break his oldest. His only child, now.

Oh Mary, it went all wrong, so wrong.

He knew he wasn't the best father, but he did his best. He did his best, but sometimes the only thing that kept him going was that he was going to kill the demon, that took everything from him. He would kill it, and he could die happy. It was the only thing that kept him going, and he knew that as much as Dean shared his need to kill it, Dean had something else. He could grow, maybe even find someone to hunt with, someone to settle down with. John, he couldn't imagine anyone could fill the hole Mary left behind in his heart.

Sammy had been different. He hadn't known Mary, didn't feel the same hatred against the demon. He wanted a normal life, and it didn't matter how many times John tried to explain that this was their life, they couldn't run from it, Sam didn't change his opinion. Or hadn't, guess he's supposed to start thinking about him in past tense. 

Dean was right, Sam had been different, had always been, and maybe John had failed from the start. Maybe he was at the fault, hiding what he knew from Sam.

Could he have prevented it? If he had told Sam, hadn't driven him away from him, could he have kept him? Would he still have Sam with them, if he had only told him about his suspicions. That they weren't the only family destroyed, that there were others similar, and it might be something bigger than John could've ever imagined. On the other hand, John hasn't heard a peep that any other kids have started developing any kind of powers, so maybe he couldn't have prevented it. Maybe Sam was always damned for this, maybe he could live with himself after all.

But God, his heart still hurt. Even if he knew Sam was in Heaven, with Mary, who would look after him like he failed to do, it hurt. It didn't hurt as much as with Mary, but it dug a hole right beside the one she left behind, and it hurt far more than any injury he's ever gotten. He ached everywhere, his kid was gone.

The tears burned in his eyes, his chest tight, and he quickly downed his glass, pretending the tears were from the burn of the whiskey, instead of his dead son. His smart, full of life, son. How could he had let this happen? Damn the hunt, damn everything, Sam was gone and he was never going to see him again. The car rides would be quiet, there would be no fighting, no additional costs from school. Isn't this what he had wanted? For Sam to shut up for once, to grow up, and let go of his dreams.

The last time he saw him, the kid was crying, trying to prove he was real, and John had shut him down without a second thought. He had disowned him, called him a monster-

He didn't mean it. God, he didn't mean any of it. 

The bedroom door creaked, and his heart flared up in more pain, as he looked at Dean, his only son. 

"Dean-" He didn't let him go on, just raised a slightly shaking hand. 

"Don't. I don't even wanna see you right now." He moved towards the bathroom, and John stood up, trying to approach him. 

"I know how you feel-"

"No, you don't." Dean's answer was sharp, void of warmth or respect. Maybe he should let him cool off. 

"Listen, Sam was my son-"

"And he's dead!" Dean exploded, and John flinched a bit. His eyes were red rimmed, filled with grief but his anger was there, something Dean could hold on to, rage would keep him alive.

"Sam's dead, and it's our fault." Dean grit his teeth, the fight trying to leave him, and he moved to go to the bathroom, and John stopped him again.

"It's not our fault, Dean-".

"It is!"

"Would you just let me finish?!" He yelled back, feeling a bit bad as Dean took a slight step back. He understood the kid was in pain, but blaming each other without reason was no use.

"Sam was my son, I know how you feel. But all we can do right now is carry on. The world doesn't end here, even if it feels like it. We have to keep on hunting, we have to find the demon-"

Dean snorted, but it was empty of any humor. He stared back at John, and the complete change took him off guard. Gone was the anger, now it was replaced by disgust, disappointment, and the same grief. He couldn't help but feel like something was wrong, very wrong.

"Sam asked me," Dean choked on the name, but kept his voice steady, "the first time, when he was four, when you had again failed to come when you were supposed to, that which one was more important to you, the hunt or us. I guess he knew the answer even back then." John felt anger cloud his vision, because that was not true at all-

"Don't you dare accuse me that the hunt was ever more important than you! You are the most important thing in my life-"

"Are we?!" Dean screamed back, and the rage was back hundred percent.

"Are we?! You dragged us across the country without a damn care in the world about what we thought! What we wanted! You left us each chance you got, never gave us enough money so Sam had to learn how to budget when he was six! Six, Dad! You put Sam in constant danger and then got angry when he got hurt because you weren't there! You got mad whenever he needed something, something as simple as some fucking boots because the old ones didn't have the bottom on any more! You never cared how he did in school, how many times the teachers praised him to moon and back, how he gave everything he had so that you'd be proud of him!" Dean was panting in the end, tears glimmering in his eyes, but his lips were pulled into a snarl. John felt like he was punched in the gut, and stared at Dean, who wasn't done.

"He loved you, Dad. He loved us both with everything he had, and we drove him away. But you lost him a long time ago, so don't try to tell me you know how I feel, when I raised the kid. We were never one of your priorities, the hunt was." 

Dean left, and John sat down. He didn't know if it was the whiskey, or Dean's words, but he was overwhelmed, ripped apart.

Was Dean right? He couldn't be-

_"I-It's me- Just p-please listen it's me I swear-"_

Sam had pleaded with him, tears burning in his eyes. He remembered the shattered look, the glassed eyes and the kid had looked so small, so fragile in that moment, and John had shattered him like a crystal glass. He could've stayed, could've let him explain, and he could've believed him for once.

Maybe Dean was right, maybe he had lost Sam a long time ago, and maybe he had really screwed up this time, and it cost him his son's life. He stared at the golden liquid in the bottle, and let the tears go.

°°°

The semi's engine rumbled loudly, a bit too loudly, but luckily his headache had left a while ago. The radio was quiet, playing some old country songs, and Sam was decent, if you'd ask him. He wasn't dying of thirst, hunger or anything else. 

His headache hadn't easened during the bus ride, and somewhere around the half way of their journey, Sam was forced to ask the driver to stop, so he could leave. The driver had left him with a bit worried look, but Sam assured he would be alright, and as the bus was out of sight, he ventured a bit deeper into the forest, and prepared for a vision.

A vision that never came, which he wasn't sure about if that was good or bad. His headache had started to ease quite quickly after leaving the bus, and maybe it was some smell or just weird psychic feeling, since he was fine now. He wasn't complaining, the visions were ruthless and he was glad it wasn't that.

Afterwards, he had guessed he needed to walk the rest of the trip, and before he could've started to worry it any more, he had gotten idea. If he's supposed to run around the country mindless, might as well start hitching now. The road had been rarely quiet, so Sam had walked instead of waiting, only stopping when he heard someone approach. The one that approached, and actually stopped was a semi-truck, and a older guy named Robert had picked him up.

Robert was nice, he guessed. He got no bad vibes for him, the man wasn't asking questions, or too many at least, and hadn't tried anything fishy yet. He had asked his name, where he was headed, and that was pretty much it. Sam was glad for the ride, it was still rather early and he hadn't felt like walking the entire day. He hoped the man wouldn't want anything as a thank you, he had heard enough stories meant to spook him off from Dean. 

He had been picked up just before Alexandria, and since Sam had no clear direction, they were going towards Lake Charles now. It actually was a better choice than Lafayette, since Lake Charles wasn't as big of a hunter hole as Lafayette. And if he were to be a pessimist, he could say that every place was a hunter hole, because they were everywhere and no where at the same time, so it didn't matter that much where he was. Maybe he should start reading the news, scan for possible hunts, and based on that he could avoid others. But could he turn his back, if he knew something bad was about to happen, and people were going to die? Probably not, damn.

"You got someone in Charles to pick you up, kid?" Robert had a thick accent, probably from Texas, and Sam thought if he should lie or not. He was underage, so maybe lying was the best option. 

"Yeah, my aunt lives there. We're going road tripping, but I missed the bus to there." It should feel alarming how easy lying was to him, but that was the hunter life. He had been lying since he knew what it was, for Dad, for Dean, who knows. CPS were a constant risk, every well meaning teacher's concerns put a damper on their plans, and usually resulted in angry John. 

Robert stayed quiet for a while, and Sam risked a glance. He couldn't read the older man, but at least he didn't look like he was about to call the cops on him. Sam was about to relax again into the silence, when the older man spoke,

"I'm 63 years old kiddo, spare me the bullshite. My sister ran away from home when we were 16, and she was as crooked as a barrel of fish hooks. And I ain't judging, you seem like a good kid." Sam swallowed, shifting in his seat. Should he make him stop the truck, and make a run for it? Robert didn't seem like he would lie to him, and call the CPS without him knowing, but he couldn't trust people.

"Listen, we don't know each other, but you seem down, kid. I'd take a wild guess it's about your family. I don't have any kids, so I can't really give you any fatherly advice, but I can give ye something." Robert took a break, and Sam watched the line of cars front of them, waiting for the man to continue.

"Family is a thing that can tie you down, burden ye, or it can be one of the greatest things in your life. But that's biological family, son. The people you get around ye, the people that fit with you, can be your family. You'll always feel some kind of a bond towards your biological family, but it doesn't have to mean anything." Robert finished, and Sam didn't know how he felt. A bit warm maybe, touched that the man cared enough of a stranger to give him advice, even when he didn't ask for it. It warmed a part of him, but the void next to it was too big when compared. He didn't have a family, and maybe Robert was right, he'd always feel a pull towards Dean, like he felt now. 

"Thanks." He didn't know what else to say, but Robert seemed to get it, his lips quirking up a bit. Sam watched the trees pass by, his mind elsewhere as Rober turned the radio up, calm country music filling the truck. He wondered where Dean was, and if he was happy without Sam in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John is honestly giving me a headache. Sorry for the late chapter, got a bit of a writer's block threat on. School's gonna start again soon, and with a week full of exams, so updates might become less scheduled and more 'idk what im doing here u go have a chapter' like.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you're all well, and Happy New Year!


	9. Close my eyes, and dream of you and I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll let you go  
> I'll let you fly  
> Why do I keep on asking why  
> I'll let you go  
> Now that I found  
> A way to keep somehow  
> More than a broken vow  
> Tell me the words I never said  
> Show me the tears you never shed  
> Give me the touch  
> That one you promised to be mine  
> Or has it vanished for all time

The air conditioning is rather loud, but Dean pays it no mind. His eyes are focused on the computer screen, his dull eyes following the lines. He had a stack of books piled next to him, and the librarian had finally given up trying to talk to him. Good, he could finally focus.

He was in Hollandale, Mississippi. John hadn't called him after their fight, and Dean had only left him a note saying he needed some time to grieve. It hadn't taken a long time to figure out the best locations, best crossroads, and the one in Clarksdale seemed okay, and might even work. The thing with the supernatural claims was that it was always claims, nothing set in stone, could be myths or just rumours that had taken off. Which is why he needed to research before committing, behold the stack of books.

He was fine, fine with dying. The pain had started fading into plain numbness, the void in Dean's chest screaming it's emptiness. He knew he probably looked like shit, he hadn't been able to sleep. Nightmares would plague him if he even dared to close his eyes, not that reality was much better. In his dreams, he could at least see Sam, ignore the words his dead body would end up saying, ignore the self-loathing that followed afterwards. He bared the nightmares, he didn't want to forget. Didn't want to forget the hazel eyes that could be green, yellow, brown or black, always depending on lighting. In the morning, they'd be a mix of yellow and green, the sun reflecting on them. On a hunt, in the middle of nowhere they'd be dark, a mix of brown with only small speckles of light. 

He didn't want to forget the mole next to his nose, could still remember the confusion on Sam's face when he had urgently called him, staring the mirror in the bathroom. Dean had been barely awake, alert in case Sam had been in trouble, only to find the kid confused about some mole on his face that had 'appeared out of nowhere, I swear De'. He had chuckled, and listened to Sam babble about it as the kid figured out in school how moles appeared. He could never understand just exactly what drove Sam so passionate about knowledge, but damn, he loved seeing the kid's eyes light up whenever he talked about something the nerd found interesting or cool. 

He didn't want to forget that. He didn't want to forget Sam's favourite Nirvana song, his favourite ACDC song from Dean's collection, the sassy remarks, his wit, and how he never failed to make Dean smile. He didn't want to forget how Sam smelled, the mix of shampoo and the woods, or the hints of old paper, when the kid just couldn't get his head out of some old book Uncle Bobby got them. He didn't want to forget how Sam felt, still tucked under his chin, and how had Dean feared the day Sam would grow, and he couldn't tuck the kid under his chin anymore.

He takes a deep breath, shifting his jaw. The pain makes itself known again, rips back into his heart and tears out whatever it can, and Dean fights the tears, the lump in his throat. Sam will be back, he'll get him back. The kid will have the world, everything he deserves, even if Dean won't be there to see it. 

John already showed how 'deeply' hurt he was by Sam dying, so he figures it won't shake the old man much when he follows. For Bobby, he feels bad. The man's been trying to call him, multiple times a day, leaving voicemails Dean doesn't want to hear. It's nothing new, nothing else he gets from others he knows, other hunters he's sometimes passed by. They're all the same. 'Sorry for your loss', 'he was a great kid', 'I know how much he meant to you'. It was all bullshit, none of them knew jackshit, so Dean didn't bother to answer. He'll be gone soon, anyway. 

The librarian clears her throat, and Dean flinches out of his thoughts. She's at one of the bookshelves, close to Dean, and clearly she wants his attention. She's pretty, Dean guesses, brown hair, green eyes and dimples, but he doesn't care. He could care less. 

He focuses back on the computer, scrolls through couple of the pages. The seat next to him is empty, there's no one to stop him from scrolling, no one to point out something that could be a important detail for the hunt, and Dean deletes the browser history. He has somewhere to be. Now he only needs the bone of a black cat, and there's a store in town for that kind of shit. It won't be long.

Won't be long anymore, Sammy. 

°°°

The old truck under him huffs and puffs, he really needs to go to Bobby's to find a new ride. This one is starting to fall apart. It's been a good ride, hasn't left him stranded in some slimey banks, and it might be good to check on Bobby. The news of Sam, had hit the old hunter hard, Joshua knew that. If the distant pain he felt was from knowing the kid a little bit, he could only imagine what Bobby was feeling. Or what Dean was.

Damn Dean. The kid hadn't been answering any of his calls, after he had delivered the news to John. The older Winchester isn't answering his texts either, not that it's anything new. Lad could make you think he was dead in some forest, when he was too busy drinking.

The Winchesters had always been different. John hadn't brought the kids, or himself for that matter, into any hunter gatherings, or other events, but pretty much everyone knew them. John was a bloody good hunter, but a shit team player. However his sons had been a deadly duo, and after Johnson's kid had made some remark about Sam, pretty much the whole hunter community knew not to fuck with them. For a twelve-year-old, Dean had got a nasty fiver, and Joshua was glad he never got on the hunter's bad side. To be honest, there wasn't a lot you could do to piss Dean off, if you counted out messing with Sam in any way.

He must be feeling quite terrible. More than terrible, probably. But John would handle it, and maybe some day Dean would answer his calls and they could go for a couple of beers. He had been talking with Caleb, and he had been none better taking in the news of what happened to Sam than, well, anyone he had called about it. Caleb had been closer with the kids, and Joshua had promised to pop by when he went by Nebraska.

Right now he was heading to Houston, damn the town, but he couldn't stay in Lafaeytte. Apparently a nasty poltergeist, snatching on some kids from age four to seven, without a reason. He'll go sort that out, and maybe take a small break after that, go see some people. Bobby, Caleb, Pastor Jim, for starters at least. His daddy would call him a damn goody-two-shoes, but Joshua didn't mind checking in on people he considers at least friends, when something so fucked up has happened.

Sam was interesting. He was so unlike Dean, unlike John, with his own interests, liking to school, and preference to research against beheading things. Most of all, Sam had been a kid, and it always scrapes something in the bottom of his gut, when an innocent kid dies, especially in such a terrible way. He really feels for Dean, and hopes the kid will keep his head up, and not drown in grief like John did. 

His stomach gurgles, and Joshua huffs. He ate a damn dinner before he left. Guess he has to pull over for some food soon, before continuing the trip. He'll drive overnight, he doesn't want any more kids to be taken if he can prevent it. He has to figure out if it's actually a poltergeist, maybe he should call someone to come help, if it gets too nasty. For now, he'll continue driving, and figure out where to stop to eat, maybe Lake Charles has some good diners.

°°°

Sam plays with his hands on his lap, waiting for Robert to come back. They've stopped for a pee break, the semi still going, his seat vibrating slightly from the engine. He has no idea where they are, but Robert had told him that his final destination is Athens, and Sam is welcome to join him. He thinks he'll still carry on his own trip after Lake Charles, can't afford staying with the same person for too long. He needs to blend in with the crowd, not become friends with a trucker who knows nothing about his world.

They haven't talked, Robert had clearly sensed Sam was bothered, or otherwise disturbed, and hasn't made any conversation. He's right, Sam is bothered. His chest feels heavy, there's a distant ache in his head, like something bad is about to happen soon, but not necessarily to him. He doesn't know, nothing seems to make sense. Robert should be back soon, and Sam doesn't think his powers would react on a stranger being in danger. His lips quirk up, and he can practically hear Dean making a joke about 'stranger danger'. 

The door opening brings him back to reality, and Robert climbs back to his seat, shooting him a look. Sam just smiles lightly, rubbing his chest as the feeling comes back, stronger. He wonders if he's able to sense emotions on the people close to him, if the ache is him feeling Dean's anger or bloodlust. He guesses that even if him and Dean aren't together anymore, they still have some kind of a bond, Dean took care of him for his whole life, after all. The truck roars back to the road, and soon they're back on their way, the trees passing by Sam again. 

He'll have to start training again, his body and the powers. He still needs to be able to run faster than anyone in his school, and it wouldn't hurt testing just what exactly he can do, so he can avoid doing it. He knows about the visions, and the some kind of shield that keeps him alive, but is there something else? He has some kind of a grip on people, supernatural ability or not, and he can at least somehow pinpoint a person's nature. Robert for an example, he seems rather neutral, and Sam knows he's a good guy, even if he has a feeling Robert has some darker demons hidden. He hasn't met anyone he knows bad yet, so on the other hand it might not be anything at all.

The thing, if he's honest, he's most scared about, is what he can do to people. Is he able to control minds? Force someone to do something against their will? Can he cause some kind of spiritual pain to someone? What exactly is he capable of? Another thing he's worried about how his powers will change. When it started, it wore him out completely to throw a spirit off of him, but later throwing a werewolf off of him only made him a little tired, and exploding a lightbulb, however under strong emotions, he didn't even notice. Will he get stronger? Will there be more powers? Will he change? 

How supernatural will he be in the end? Will there be twenty percent Sam left, or five, or none? 

He's scared, okay, he's fucking scared. He's scared of everything around him, everyone around him, he's scared of himself, of what he'll become, of how he'll end. The fear for his life is an annoying feeling he can't get rid of. On some day, he fears for his life, and on some other day, he feels like it'd be just for the best if he were dead.

What will his visions become like? Will his headaches get worse? And whatever it is, that keeps him alive, will it become stronger? Will he be able to throw people around without a strain?

God, this is so mad. Last year, his biggest problem was dealing with John who was getting on his nerves, and how to keep Dean happy, how to talk to the girl he might like, now it's the opposite. Now his biggest problem is hunters, and his powers. He needs to know, needs to figure out a way to know why this is happening, how is it happening, and will it ever stop? What if his powers kill him, somehow overwhelm him so that he can't take it anymore? If his head becomes too full of the dead and not the living, will he loose his mind? If his visions become stronger, more like reality, and Sam starts to forget the line between a vision and reality?

Fuck, he's screwed. He's alone, and how on Earth is he supposed to figure something out when every hunter is on his ass? And when his kind, the supernatural, hear the name Winchester, and either rip him into pieces or run as far as possible. He can't ask anyone for help, no one at all. He's pretty sure he's the only one this has happened to, he would've heard or read about it otherwise. Just his luck, isn't it? Dean called him a trouble magnet, and wasn't he right?

He runs a hand across his face, and leans against his seat, closing his eyes. Maybe he can sleep, and the fate of his world can wait for later.

°°°

The sun still peeking over the treeline, when Sam and Robert pull up to the diner. Robert told him the place has the greatest mashed potatoes he's ever had, and Sam trusts the old trucker's word. He's hungry, and Robert had shut down any protest he had had for the older buying his food as well. Not that he had money, he was running dangerously thin on it, and he really needed a way to make more. He'll get some jobs when he can stop again and not get offed within a day. 

He stays close to the older man, doesn't trust the gang of some teenagers by the diner's corner at all, their loud voices and whistles at some girl making him uncomfortable. He can't imagine how the girl feels, being harrassed by some teenagers who can't keep it in their pants. He so isn't looking forward to more hormones. 

"Don't walk against the darn door kid." Robert's huffed warning just and just saves him from walking into the diner door, and he ducks his head down, embarrassed as they enter. Only when Robert nudges him, he looks back up, eyes trailing on the menu. His stomach makes a small sound, but Robert apparently hears it, since he chuckles. 

The waiter is slowly making her way back to the counter, it's a busy day apparently. Sam scans the people, some truckers, couple families and a smaller group of teenagers. It's until his eyes meet familiar ones, does fear grip his gut. 

He's backing off, eyes locked with Joshua who's standing up, making his way through the people. Robert is saying his name, but all he can hear is his own heartbeat, and the voice in his head that yells him to move, to run. 

He bolts, straight out of the diner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn Joshua and his damn stomach. I'm going to apologise now, because there will be a noticeable delay in chapters for a while. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you are all well!


	10. You cry out to the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for implied near sexual assault
> 
> When your seams have come unknitted  
> And you cry out to the sky  
> I've run out of my words, my song  
> Just let me die, me die  
> The rockrose and the thistle  
> Will whistle as you moan  
> I could try to calm you down  
> But I know you won't  
> All the pins inside your fretted head  
> And your muttered whens and hows  
> All your mother's weaves and your father's threads  
> Let me rob them of you now

The ground under him was cold, the breeze would be making him freeze, if it wasn't for the fire. The sun had set down, and the only light right now was the blazing semi-truck. His hands, not shaking the slightest, were covered in still liquid blood that dripped down his fingers to the ground. His head was bleeding, his collarbone probably fractured, and even as his legs were fine, Sam couldn't move. He could only sit by the road, and watch the truck burn, knowing he had to leave soon. There was a body inside that car, a dead person, and Sam was responsible for it. 

He pushes himself up, continuing to stagger along the tree line, ready to hide when people start showing up. He can't forget, can't get the words out of his head. Can't forget the pitch black eyes he has only ever heard of. A shiver runs down his spine, and Sam considers himself a dead man walking.

_"You can run from us all you want, sweetheart, but we're the closest thing to family you got."_

_°°°_

_Couple hours earlier_

To say Joshua was surprised, would be the answer from some therapist. He was fucking bewildered, shook out of his mind, tree fell on his head, cows started flying, surprised. Because Sam Winchester, the kid he called about to John and Dean, the dead kid, had just walked into the diner. 

Everything he had thought, flirting with the waiter, the deaths in Houston, flew out of the window. He had stared, and wondered if this was a dream, if he was so desperate to see the kid alive he was imagining it. 

He could not recognize the shaggy hair, the still a bit too big clothes on him, and the eyes Dean had babbled about when drunk, that had turned towards him, and had been filled with fear. Fear that sent the kid running before Joshua could realize, the trucker Sam had arrived with bolting after the kid quickly, and Joshua hadn't hesitated a second. He had broken into a full sprint after the duo, not caring how it looked to others. 

Sam looked like he was hyperventilating, eyes flying everywhere, as he leaned against the truck, his current guardian or whatever right next to him, seemingly trying to calm him down. Joshua hesitated for a moment, should he approach or wait a bit? However the memory of a drunk Dean mumbling how much he loves his kid, forces him to move. He needs Dean to know Sam's alive. 

He starts approaching, but gets only slightly closer, when Sam, seemingly a bit more calmed down spots him again, sending the kid down to another spiral. He feels a bit sick, the kid should never be afraid of him for Christ's sake. He's their friend, not enemy and it hurts to see the kid he's known for years look at him with nothing but pure fear. Sam's spiral alerts the man he seems to be with, who turns around, spotting him. He's sporting a beard with hints of grey in it, and those eyes narrow at him, and soon the old trucker is approaching, and Joshua doesn't know what to do. 

Hand ready to reach for a weapon, he keeps his eyes on Sam, who's watching them with alarm. The man gets a bit too close, and Joshua tooks a step back, holding his hand out.

"Hey, hey hey, easy there. No need to get close and personal, man." 

"You better keep yer ass right here and not go any closer to that kid, or it's gonna get messy." A low tone, seemingly the man seems even a bit protective, which, who can blame him? Sam's a sweetheart, everyone loves him to be honest. 

"Listen, I know him, and I really need to talk to him-" He doesn't get to finish, hopping backwards as the man clenches his fist, preparing to hit him. He throws his hands up, he can't afford having the cops called, and a fight over some underage kid who ran away from him in fear would not look good at all. Fucking fuck, he needs to talk to Sam! He needs to get the kid back to Dean before God knows what happens. 

"Back off, kid." And then the trucker is going back to Sam, throwing glances over his shoulder, and Joshua doesn't dare to move. There's enough crowd already, and Joshua is helpless to watch Sam climb into the truck, the kid peeking out of the window to watch him. With the trucker inside, he makes one last effort, and sprints to his car. He can tail them, keep an eye on them and he'll snatch Sam the moment he has a chance. The truck is backing out of it's spot, and Joshua slams the car door closed, turning the key in the ignition, but nothing happens.

He snaps out of the quick shock, turning the key again and again, because this can't be happening, this can't be happening right now! The engine just wheezes before dying again, no matter how many times he turns the key. He looks up, and the truck is pulling up to the highway, Sam's eyes still locked with him. There's a furrow on his face, as if he's concentrating, but Joshua doesn't have time to think, he needs to get his car to work.

By the time the engine turns on, the truck is long out of sight.

°°°

"Fuck!" He slams his hand against the wheel in frustration. He's lost them. He's fucking lost a damn semi-truck on a highway out of all places. There isn't many turns they could've taken, but apparently they took a different turn than Joshua, and he has no idea where the truck, or Sam for that matter is. He curses again under his breath, trying to figure out a plan. He knows Sam is alive, because no spirit or shifter or demon would've acted like that. Had it been any supernatural creature, Sam wouldn't have been afraid, because he wouldn't have a reason to. From what he got out from Dean, Sam has some psychic thing going on out of nowhere, and the kid's convinced his family and every hunter on this planet wants him dead.

Which, let him say, if Bobby or Caleb knew anything about, John Winchester would not have his balls for long. Because there is no one else, that could make the kid so fucked in the head, than John. If Dean had to cut off a hair from that bush that was growing on his kid brother's head, he would probably instead kill whoever would dare to even suggest that. Dean, no way. There is no way that Dean would be at fault here, and he'll believe that to his grave. From what he's gathered amongst the years, Dean loves the kid more than probably life, and Sam feels the same way. They're a weird duo, but no one can judge. They all do what they need to to be able to live the life they do.

So he understands Sam's reaction, even as the fear in his eyes will probably haunt him for a while, he'll figure it out. He has new info, and there's a lot of hunters out there looking for the youngest Winchester, someone has to spot him sooner or later, now that Joshua knows that he's travelling with a trucker. For how long, probably not too long, the kid is too damn smart sometimes for his own good.

The kid could be anywhere. He knows how to stay out of sight, avoid authorities, stay alive with little money. Wait, how does the kid have any money? He's been criss-crossing through like five states, most in one go. How does he have any money left? Damn, he hopes the kid isn't in trouble. Sam knows how to take care of himself, he knows that, but the kid's fourteen for Christ's sake. The worst thing he did when fourteen was steal his dad's old truck, and this damn kid is avoiding every damn hunter in the country while staying alive, alone, with some god awful psychic powers.

Is that how he's alive? Because he's as sure as he's about poltergeists being douchebags that Sam entered the bus. The bus that ended in crashing off a cliff, killing everyone. Did Sam somehow save himself from that? There's no way he was in the bus, so he must've gotten off at some point, in the middle of nowhere. A lightbulb lits in his mind. That's probably why the kid is with a trucker! He had no other choice than to wait someone to pick him up. Does he know about the crash, though? Sam would've gotten off before even halfway to Lafayette, so it's totally possible he and his trucker friend avoided the entire crash site!

So the kid doesn't know that his brother-

Fuck, Dean!

He scrambles to find his phone, simultaneously trying to find a place where he can pull over to. Fuck it, he'll put emergency lights on, he needs to call Dean now. Pulling over, he quickly shifts the gears, other hand already clicking down to Dean's number, pressing call without hesitation. Now he doesn't have to think about how to word this, he's bringing the good news, turning Dean's world back on instead of turning it off. If the damn fucker would just answer his phone for once! He can't leave another voicemail, there's no way Dean has listened to the previous ones, why would he listen to this.

The line clicks, and Joshua jumps immediately in,

"Dean! Stop whatever in God's name you're doing and sit down!" An exasperated sigh comes through, and Joshua is dying to just scream it out, the joy hitting him full power.

_"Listen man, you can't change my mi-"_

"Okay I'm done! Listen, and listen closely. You better be sitting down, I don't want your ass in a hospital." He swallows, the smile on his lips probably making him look like a maniac.

"Your brother's alive, he's alive. Sam's alive, not dead, he's alright-" He stops, because the line stays quiet. Did he hang up?

_"I swear Joshua, if this is-"_

"I swear on my mother's grave, Dean. Sam's alive." There are three promises he has made, three swears on his mother, God rest her soul. Dean has to know he's serious. The line is quiet, but Joshua knows he hasn't hung up. He's probably shaken his entire world over and around again, dropping the news like this. He gives him a while to reorganize himself and everything, before he continues in a gentle tone.

"He must've gotten off the bus before the accident for some reason. He's hitching with what seems to be a perfectly normal human being, a trucker, nothing too suspicious. He probably doesn't even know about the crash at all, Dean. I'm sure if Sam knew, he would've contacted you somehow, the kid loves you." There's no answer for a while, but Joshua hears shaky breathing.

"He's alive, Dean. God, that little shit is alive." He chuckles in relief, because in the end he hadn't doomed Dean as well. He hadn't failed his friend.

_"Is- Is he with you?"_

There's a tiny bit of hope, and it sounds so unlike Dean. He knows the confident, sassy and brilliant Dean, but this version is a run down. It sounds like he had lost his hope, for everything, and Joshua hates to crush the new try of it.

"I'm sorry, man. The trucker got real close and I couldn't risk the cops being called. I'm actually pretty sure that Sam, the damn fucker, had something to do with my car not being able to go after them." He hears a weak laugh, and even with a small disappointment it sounds legit, and relieved. Dean doesn't ask anything else, so Joshua does it for him, he must still be in shock, Joshua is at least.

"I can give a detailed description of the trucker, and they can't be far. Have to stop at some point. There's no way Sam can avoid every hunter in the states." A part of him disagrees, but he needs to give Dean hope.

_"Pretty sure you know that he can."_

A little choked up, but that's fine. Dean will be alright now, and they'll get that little man back to his brother soon, and they'll start healing again. They'll be fine. And God, is it a relief.

He hums his agreement, before continuing, "I'm in just outside Lake Charles right now. I know there's some big truck stations in Oklahoma and Texas, so they're probably heading towards one of them, if the kid stayes with the same guy. Can't be sure though, but it's the best we got. Are you and John where-"

 _"I'm outside Clarksdale."_ It's the tone that gets his attention. He stays quiet, wondering why Dean would be in Clarksdale, before it hits him. 

"Dean-" He knows his voice is strained, but his heart dropped into his stomach the second he realized just what could attract a grieving brother to that shit hole known for it's crossroads.

 _"I didn't-"_ The line goes quiet, before Dean sighs heavily, and Joshua feels his blood rush. 

_"I was going to, but you were faster, man. I don't know where John is, but not a word about this to him, alright?"_

Joshua sighs, because God, the Winchesters will be the death of him. He should've known something was up with Dean, bloody hell that was too close.

"I'm not judging, Dean, honestly. I got you man. I'm gonna call John next and tell him about Sam, though. He can ask around or organise some search method-"

A bitter laugh breaks through, and Joshua gets a bad feeling.

_"I doubt John will lift a finger."_

"Dea-"

 _"No. He said the demon was more important than Sam, day after he was fucking dead and-"_ Dean cuts off. God, there's more shit going on than he thought. John was never the greatest, but fuck,

"Shit. I'm sorry man. I need to let him know still, I don't give a shit if he helps or not. We'll probably deal with this easier without him. But, do give Bobby a call, alright? The man's grieving, both of you, and I'm sure he's been trying to reach you. I'll call you later, let me know when you're closer, kay?"

_"I will... And Joshua? I can't thank you enough."_

He smiles, "Buy me a beer and we'll see." Dean chuckles, and Joshua ends the call with a decent feeling. But damn, he's going to Florida after they get Sam home, this is too much drama for him. He looks at his phone, he knows Dean isn't going to call Bobby right now, probably is speeding here as quickly as possible without a care for speed limits. He also doesn't feel like talking to John after what he heard. The decision is easy, and he clicks Bobby's name, ready to deliver some damn good news again. The line clicks, and he's smiling even before he hears him.

_"This better be important."_

°°°

The phone is thrown to the passenger seat, and Dean is probably breaking so many laws right now, but he couldn't care less. There's a warmth, a light in his chest he thought was gone forever. He's alive, he feels alive again, and most importantly, Sam is alive. He tightens his hold of the steering wheel, determination settling in. He can fix things now, and he will. He just has to find the kid, but luckily Dean knows him better than anyone. 

He'll find his kid, and he'll never let him go again. 

He pushes down the pedestal, and the Impala rumbles with him, and he has hope.

°°°

The sirens have left, a while ago. An hour, twenty minutes, Sam isn't sure. He doesn't know how long it has been. He's cold, can't feel his hands anymore, and maybe this is it. Maybe he won't have to run from everyone anymore, if this is it. Coldness, takes out Sam Winchester, and if that isn't irony he doesn't know what is. Fire was his begin, cold his end, it's poetic almost. 

His jacket burned with the truck, and he can still feel the hands on him, pushing him down, and he chokes. The tears spill out, and Sam feels like he's drowning. His face hurts, there are scratches on his arms, and with the button ripped off of his jeans, they are only hanging on to his hips. Fuck, this can't be happening-

His eyes stare at his blood covered hands, the hands that took an innocent life. He's a murderer, and he's tainted. He's a monster, and he doesn't know if he can live with all that. The Taurus John gave him is in his duffel he somehow managed to grab, while escaping a soon exploding truck, his head still ringing from the hit. He has a choice, but it feels like these hands aren't his anymore. He's a pawn of something bigger, and who knows what'll happen if he grabs that gun. 

He'll have to start moving, without being heard, ever again. He isn't only running from hunters now, he's running from demons. 

And no one can outrun a demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek, this is getting dark now. But yay, Dean's okay, something positive, right?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. Nights long alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If today I woke up with you right beside me  
> Like all of this was just some twisted dream  
> I'd hold you closer than I ever did before  
> And you'd never slip away  
> You'd never hear me say  
> I remember the day you told me you were leaving  
> I remember the makeup runnin' down your face  
> And the dreams you left behind, you didn't need them  
> Like every-single wish we ever made.  
> I wish that I could wake up with amnesia  
> And forget about the stupid little things  
> Like the way if felt to fall asleep next to you  
> And the memories I never can escape  
> 'Cause I'm not fine at all

"Agents Ford and Collins." They flash the badges, cutting off whatever Sheriff Williams was about to say. The young man, young to be a Sheriff more like, leans closer to inspect them, and they give him couple of seconds, before they pocket them. No one has ever in their history of doing this actually properly examined their badges, which should be kinda worrying. For them, it's just easier.

"FBI, huh? Didn't know you did basic cases these days." Caleb flashes him his iconic smile, and Joshua looks around them. He can smell sulfur even from here, the whole area around the toasted semi-truck practically oozing of it. His chest tightens, Dean was not going to be happy about this.

"Nothing is basic anymore, the last case we worked was a simple homocide done by a jealous husband, and in the end we discovered the man was a sex cultist that had planned assassinating the mayor." Williams whistles, impressed, and Joshua wants to chuckle under his breath, he never figured out where Caleb pulls these stories from. 

"So, what do we got?" He interrupts their chatting, casting Caleb a look. He knows the other wants to find Sam as badly as him, if not more, but he'd like to get back to Caleb's little base, where Dean is probably already breaking shit. Bobby should be there soon, driving the entire way from Sioux Falls to Jasper. He's so damn grateful that Caleb still had the old little hut, they had quickly cleaned it into a working base for tracking the young Winchester down. 

"Seems to be a crash. Driver lost control of the truck and crashed into that tree, engine lit on fire and exploded, burning the whole thing." It's a relief, that nothing is standing out of the ordinary to the local Sheriff, they don't need anyone suspecting the trucker wasn't driving alone. Joshua remembers the license plate of the truck Sam left in, and the bent metallic plate has the same numbers and letters on it. The question is, what in God's name happened, and where was Sam?

"Have you identified the driver yet?" Joshua wonders closer to the truck, avoiding the other officers who just nod at him as he passes. The tree is basically dug into the front of the semi, and with that speed and force, the tree probably should've fallen over. Guess it's a bit stronger than it looks, or Sam has something to do with it. Did the truck actually get toasted into a crisp by the crash, or did it get lit by Sam?

He climbs in from the passenger seat, eyes tracking the inside. There's clear marks of where the body was, and the sulfur smells so bad it almost makes him choke. Eager to get away, he scans the inside quickly. What seems to have been a piece of clothing lies on the floor, and Joshua surveys it. It could be Sam's, could be the driver's. He doubts that the cloth can work as an evidence against the young Winchester, but he shouldn't count on it. He checks no one is around, and tramples the clothing, the already crisped fabric tearing into smaller pieces. That should be fine now, no way they can get something off of it.

The insides seem clear otherwise, and Joshua steps out. He doesn't spot Caleb with the Sheriff, probably doing some of his own investigation, and decides to go talk to the man. The Sheriff is talking to an officer who quickly leaves after he gets closer, and Joshua rises an eyebrow.

"Don't mind James, he's new and a bit spooked by this. He's local, so he might know the lad. Ye spot anything interesting?" Williams asks, and Joshua shakes his head. This should be clear, if Caleb comes back with nothing as well, they'll go back to the base. To be honest, they're both pretty worried about Dean. He had shown up, probably had driven like a madman, and he looked like shit. Honestly, it had been a while since he had seen someone looking so terrible, and he's seen a lot of aftermaths of hunts gone wrong. The kid had lost weight, hadn't probably eaten properly after the news, had lost all of his humor, the usual sass and pretty much everything that made Dean Winchester, well, Dean Winchester. He wouldn't talk, didn't do any small talk, wouldn't look you into the eyes unless you had some info about Sam. And God, the nights. The little hut didn't give them much privacy, so no matter how hard Dean fought to keep them away, they still woke up to him having nightmares, and Caleb had taken the job mostly to keep Dean company after getting him out of his dream. They didn't talk about it, course they didn't, but they all knew this couldn't go on much longer. Dean was ripping himself into pieces to find Sam, and maybe when they find the kid eventually, there won't be any Dean left.

"We'll get the lad identified soon, and we can let the family know. Don't know much of your feds business, but the locals are gonna be on edge, we're a tight community, so mind keeping the questioning down a notch?" That's a tone if Joshua knows one, apparently they've had some bad experience with feds, wonder if they were actual feds or some other hunters. He hasn't heard about anyone pissing off some townies here, but you never know. He knows a few who don't got no consideration for their cover as long as it works, or for any feelings the victim's family or others might have.

The eldest Winchester pops into his mind. He has called him, but John, the usual, hasn't bothered picking up the damn phone. 

"If my partner there won't find anything interesting, I think we're all done." He won't try to clear any reputations, not his job. As if on cue, Caleb climbs from the ditch by the semi, and Joshua instantly knows he has something. Excusing himself, he hurries to Caleb, who gives him a meaningful look. He doesn't know if it's hope or uneasiness that grows in his gut, as he follows Caleb to their car, waving bye to the Sheriff who watches them go with narrowed eyes. Way to not look suspicious, Joshua.

The second the door closes, Caleb turns to him as he turns the key.

"There's tracks, and I'm quite sure they came from the truck. Someone was down in the forest, there was a little drop after the ditch, and it must've been around when the crash happened." 

"Think it's Sam?" Caleb huffs, rubbing his forehead as Joshua focuses on the road, heading straight towards their little base. It's not a long drive, thank God, and they need to call Dean soon.

"Course it's fucking Sam. The kid knows how to cover his tracks, they led to nowhere. The shit news is, I'm ninety percent sure the kid's injured in some way, no idea how badly." Joshua looks at him, and Caleb is worried. Worried isn't good, that means they have actual evidence that something is wrong. Damn it. He sighs, this is not good at all. They might need some extra hands with this.

"A demon, a toasted truck, just what the Hell is going on with that kid?" 

"Something bad, I bet. I think we're in deeper than we thought." Caleb says, tired, and Joshua is reminded by how tired they all are. They're basically tracking Sam down all the time, every bus stop that the kid might've went to is being called, every gas station, train station, weird activities, everything. Every hunter on this piece of land is keeping an eye out, but so far no one has seen anything. 

"Mind giving Dean a call, before he destroys the rest of your beer collection." Caleb doesn't laugh, and it wasn't a joke. They'd be worried about how much Dean drinks, if they didn't know how much John drank compared to. Sometimes, he thinks he might hate John, for all he's done, but he won't say that, he wants to keep Sam and Dean both in his life as long he can, and the man is still their father, no matter how shitty.

°°°

He's pacing, back and forwards between the limited space of the kitchen and the living room. He looks like shit, and damn is this the last time Bobby believes John can take care of his kids. This is the last mess he'll solve, and won't let John create any more of them. Bastard isn't even here.

"Dean, wouldya mind sitting your ass down? They ain't getting here any sooner despite how much you run the old floors down." The kid huffs, sound that would usually lead to a sassy comment, but nothing. He's been here for thirty minutes, and he's growing more and more alarmed of the kid the longer he is here. Instead of listening to him, Dean goes to hover over the table they had gathered from what looks like old coffee tables. Filled with mostly the map they got, red lines going over, mimicking Sam's great escape. It's a mess, and he stopped counting how long Dean has spent perched over that table after it hit twenty. 

"Dean," He doesn't know what to say, he's damn angry with John and his bullshit and for letting this happen, but the kid needs help. He isn't going to last.

"No need for a fatherly talk, Bobby, I had one already with John. It was mostly him belittling this entire shitshow, and cursing Sammy out as if this was in any way his fault." It's a rare jab from Dean, but Bobby grabs onto it. At least the kid wants to talk about that. 

"Listen, your old man can be an arsehole, but he's coming here still ain't he?" Dean huffs, it seems to be the only sound he can make aside from frustrated little grunts. He stays leaned over the map, clearly thinking hard, trying to figure out some masterplan his kid has as if he isn't running from pure fear. He's zigzagging from state to another, trying to loose someone off his tail, and Bobby knows the fact they got nothing on the kid is worse. He stayed on radar, barely yes, and now, after meeting a demon, he drops off completely. It can't be good.

"The only reason I'm letting him anywhere near Sam is because he's a good tracker, nothing else. The second we find Sam, John is out." Feeling alarmed, Bobby tries to get a read on Dean. There's bitterness and anger towards John, and even as shit of a person he is, Dean rarely never shows any distate towards him. What had he done now?

"Dean, I don't know what the Hell John did to make you that mad, but if that's what you want, we'll go with that. Now, what can you tell about what could be going on in that little bugger's head?" He comes to stand next to Dean, watch the red lines around the map, the small notes written next to the cities Sam's known to been at. Dean stays quiet, thinking, and Bobby glances at his bruised knuckles. They don't seem broken, but bruised as hell. 

"He's scared." Dean starts, quiet and a little choked. He's staring at the map, fingers gripped around the edges of the map. He exhales, rubbing his forehead quickly. He points at Breitung, where the lines start, and continues,

"See, here he was trying to loose us off his tail. He avoided big towns, didn't stay for long, used cash and somehow avoided all cameras. At some point, probably around West Plains, he must've realized Joshua was on his tail, and did this little circle to throw him off. Now, before Arkansas, he calms down a bit. Takes a breather, spends a night in the same place. He knew Joshua was off his tail for now at least, and then after avoiding the crash," Dean's voice tightens, and he takes a moment to swallow, before carrying on, "he continues moving, still as if someone was on his tail. He didn't know about the crash, so he kept on running, and this trucker guy must've been possessed from the start, or during some time when he was with Sam. I know the kid wouldn't hop on to ride with someone he doubts the slightest, since at this point he wasn't too desperate."

He has to marvel, how Dean can stay professional, as if he isn't talking about his own brother, who Bobby knows he loves more than probably anything. But, it is Dean after all, if someone can pull through something like this without going nuts, it's Dean. The engine outside cuts off what he was planning to stay, and Dean moves towards the door like a dog waiting for it's owner to return. Bobby leans against the table, trying to get more sense to whatever is going on in Sam's head. God, he knew the kid was something else, not meant for hunting, but it was something else in the end, wasn't it? Just had to be Sam, the kid who's torn between what he wants from life and the family business, Sam who he knows has some dark thoughts, and doubts of his own part in Mary's death.

The door opens, and Joshua and Caleb step in. Their tired faces light up a bit, and damn it's good to see them. Caleb pushes against Joshua, to get in front of him, and splayes his arms wide open, grinning like the idjit he is. He doesn't complain, pats Caleb's back, and it does feel good to see him. With Caleb running around the country and Bobby in Sioux Falls, they don't get to see often.

"Old man! Good to see ya!" Joshua is next, and damn, has he grown again. 

"Be careful who ye call old, I can still beat you in shooting, and you know that." He warns, and Joshua laughs. It's almost as if nothing was wrong, but their faces loose the smile too quick, replaced by a worried frown. 

"Wish we could see in better times, man. Now, clean your ears, we need to do some serious planning." Dean, who's stayed quiet so far, joins them around the table, and Bobby doesn't miss the look Joshua and Caleb cast at each other. He knows the kid looks like shit, but he also knows he isn't gonna get any better till he knows Sam's fine. That little fucked up instinct John beat into him doesn't give up easy. 

"Pretty sure I got Sam's jacket in the semi, apparently left behind. Nothing more, and the cops don't think anyone else was in the crash, so on that side we're clear." They nod, even as Dean looks suddenly distant for a second, before focusing as Caleb speaks up.

"Now, I found some tracks near the edge of the forest. No one else got em, and I cleaned whatever I found, but I'd bet my ASP it was Sam." Caleb looks pointedly at Dean, and darn, that isn't a good look.

"I also came across some blood, and remains of what looks like a first aid kit. Not much blood, and I covered it all so there's no evidence of Sam being there left, and we had to expect he was going to be hurt in some way after that kind of a crash. What I think we need to figure out, is that where is he heading, and why haven't we got a bloody thing on him?" Joshua humms his agreement, and Dean stays quiet, Bobby keeping an eye on him. 

"I don't think he's planning on becoming a hermit, so I guess bus stations are still our best bet. Might want to check in on some hospitals, just in case, cause if the kid's there, he's gonna need backup like yesterday." Caleb nods, studying the map, as Joshua ponders.

"Something went south." Dean says it like it solves everything, wide eyes coming up from the table to stare at them. Caleb side-eyes him, clearly unsure of what he's talking, but luckily he continues. 

"I don't mean just a demon. Hell, that'd spook me into hiding as well, but this is something else. Sam gets afraid, sure, but he's also the bravest person I know. A demon trying to kill him wouldn't spook him off the radar, there's something else in this shit." They frown, because damn, Dean is right. What happened? And do they want to even know?

"Let's say this demon possessed the trucker before he crossed paths with Sam. Why would he let him off the hook, and only later try and nail him? I think, that the trucker was fine when Sam got to him, and that he got possessed during their time. So, what would make a demon jump into a body in the middle of nowhere, traveling with a Winchester, if it wasn't something bad?" His hands shake, and Dean grips the edge of the table, his gut churning.

"What would a demon want with Sam?" Caleb asks, and none of them say it outloud, even if they're all thinking of the same thing. Demons and Winchesters went back a decade, it wasn't hard math. Another engine rumbles outside, and all eyes fly to Dean. The kid's face hardens, he shifts his jaw and stands up straight. Bad timing, Johnny, bad timing.

The door opens, and if looks could kill, John Winchester would be dead at the doorstep. Face of stone, as usual, no regard to the fact everyone looks like they want to embowel him, and he steps in, door closing behind.

"Demons and Sam's abilities, share with the class before someone looses their cool, John."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler chapter, but I tried. Now, John's screwed, and Dean't won't be happy. Thank you for reading as always, I'll try get some chapters out as soon as possible, school's being a little fecker and it's gonna be -40 C here, so I'm gonna be stuck in school, and freezing my fecking ass off. Hope you're all doing well, I'll see you hopefully soon!


	12. The outcome of a revolution born to consume it's own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you're a loaded gun, yeah  
> Oh, there's nowhere to run  
> No one can save me  
> The damage is done  
> Shot through the heart  
> And you're to blame  
> You give love a bad name (bad name)  
> I play my part and you play your game  
> You give love a bad name (bad name)  
> You give love, a bad name

John didn't move, didn't change his expression. Standing in the doorway, not bothering to answer, and God sometimes Dean could understand why that annoyed Sam so much. Was it so hard to just give a simple answer?

"Don't know what you're talking about, Caleb. Have you-"

"The history between Sam and demons, now." It was Dean who spoke up, with this way too calm voice, that still gave away that he was about to lose his cool. John narrowed his eyes, and Dean crossed his arms, not backing off. They needed answers, and they were going to get them, one way or another.

When John still didn't answer, continuing to try to get Dean to back off with his attitude, Joshua stepped in. The tall man was usually calm, collected, didn't give any of the bursts of anger Dean had, so seeing him, standing in his full height and set jaw would put anyone even a bit on edge.

"You can tell us, or then you can get the fuck out, John. Simple as that." The tensed silence continued, John now eyeing all of them, trying to get an idea of how serious they were. Slowly, his posture started to fall, starting from the tensed shoulders and tightened jaw. He let out a long sigh, throwing his duffel in the corner. 

He leaned against the wall, and Dean could see he was pondering just how much to tell. Feeling his anger rise, he was so done with all the fucking secrets, they needed to find Sam!

"Spill it all, from the beginning." Dean glared at John, shoving his determination against John's, he wasn't playing around, and God help the older if he wouldn't spill it all. He needed to know, he needed to figure out what these fuckers wanted from his little brother, get them to back the fuck off, and get his brother safe. Preferably, first get his brother safe. He doesn't have any idea how Sam is doing, and it's killing him.

"A demon killed your mother, as you know." The men settled down, all eyes set on John who only hesitated to continue for a couple of seconds, Dean's glare enough inspiration.

"I started hunting that thing, and it didn't take long to figure out a pattern. The demon would visit families, with a baby six months old, and usually kill the mother, if not the whole family." Dean shifted, he had a bad feeling about this.

"No idea how it chooses the victims, all over the country, if there's an older kid, they can be two years or thirteen years, no matter. Then it's gone, and moves on to another family. I still don't got a clue about why it's doing it, what the ultimate plan actually is." John does look a little bothered by it, mostly angered that he doesn't know everything. Dean shifts his stance, getting impatient.

"We know all this shit already. What's it got to do with Sammy?" Bobby moves closer to the boy, John is playing the long game on purpose, withholding information to get Dean riled up, and leave the questioning. However, Bobby knows that isn't happening, Dean is too close to the thing. Withholding information about a case, he could let that pass, but not when it comes to Sam. 

"I didn't tell you, because you'd just overreact. It's nothing big, it doesn't matter, Dean. Let it be, Sam can-"

"Sam is fourteen! He's alone, with no money, no one to help him, with fucking demons on his ass! It's something big, and I swear if you fucking don't spill it, I'm gonna do something about it. This is Sam, John." He spits the name out, and John's face hardens. The tense silence is back, with Dean fuming, and John sulking. Caleb and Joshua are eyeing the situation, ready to jump in if it gets physical. Both on edge, John's habit of withholding information has always been annoying, but with this kind of shit, it's unacceptable.

John grits his teeth, and finally, spits out, "The demon feeds the kids demon blood."

It doesn't take long. A moment of stunned, shocked silence, Dean staring at John, without seeing, mouth hanging open. He's the quickest to snap out of the gut punch induced by John, practically throwing himself towards the man, eyes burning. A crack, and the rest of the hunters are pulling Dean back, not one of them helping John, who's holding his nose, blood pouring out of it. 

"You son of a bitch! Now- Now you fucking tell us!" Dean's screaming his head off, fighting against the hands holding him back from beating John to a pulp. "He's your fucking son! He's your fucking son and you let this all happen! You could've fucking told us! We could've stopped it, stopped all of this fucking shit!" John's getting up from crouch he was in, glaring right back at Dean, silent.

"He would be here! Sam would be here, not out in who knows where, hunted by fucking demons!" Dean's panting, finally relenting. Caleb and Joshua back off, ready to go again if needed. He stares at John, at the man who was supposed to be his father, their father, and have their best interests in mind. Fucking bullshit. His shoulders shake, the rage is making him shiver where he stands. He doesn't know what to think, except that John needs to be gone. He's done, they're done with his secrets, he needs to draw the line.

"Sam's fucking gone, out there on his own. You could've just told us, could've for once in your fucking time let us know. But of course you didn't." A bitter chuckle, and God he wishes he could tear the man apart. Fuck him over like he fucked them over.

"I'm done." He can see it sink, can finally see a reaction out of him. He lets it sink, lets it start hurting, feeling his fists shake. He won't beat him up, unless he asks for it, and this is the line. This is the end of this shit.

"I'm fucking done. I want you out. Out of this building and out of our fucking lives. This is the fucking line. You fucked up, well congrats, _Dad_ , you fucked up for the last time. I'm gonna find my kid, without you, and I swear on Mom's grave-" His voice shakes, emotion threatening to clog. 

"I swear on Mom's grave, I get a whiff that you're trying to find Sam, I'll fucking kill you." He spits the words out, doesn't wait to see what happens, and walks out of the backdoor. He needs to beat something up.

°°°

The wood splitters next to his head, the broken pieces flying around, Sam barely dodging them. His shoes squeaking, he turns around the corner, sprinting as fast as his burning legs can, ignoring the ache in his chest and the swimming vision. What a great way to wake up.

"Don't be a tease, Sammy! Come here darling!" The woman's voice sing-songs, and Christ why did they have to be so damn fast too! Opening the door he quickly runs down the stairs, halting for a second. He can go out, try to hide again, or fight a demon. The door slams open, and the grin that almost like splits the woman's face in two is horrifying. Heart beating in his chest, he backs off, trying to think. He needs to go, he needs to go-

With all the strength he has, he flungs the nearby cabinet up towards the chairs, turning to sprint out of the old building, not looking back. That might hurt her a bit, why is warding so damn hard! He sprints down the street, the pain in his side flaring up with each breath. Patting the pocket of his slightly fixed jeans, to his relief he finds the notebook there. The panic starts to get off his chest, and Sam slows down, trying to get control of his breathing. His duffel is long gone, he can't risk going back there, and he can survive without it. He can, if he just belives. Fuck the remains of his food in there, the remainings of his little home-made first aid kit, and his clothes. Yeah he doesn't need them. 

_Whatever you need to tell yourself, Sammy._

He's fucked, again. Couldn't he catch a damn break? Ducking into an alley, he looks around. There's a couple of bins, no clothes he could use however. All his meds were in the bag, and his shoulder is starting to make itself known. He's quite sure he had broken it in the crash, so he had tried his best to keep it stable, but running from everything kinda didn't keep that an option for long. He doesn't want the bone twisting and causing further damage, and so far he thinks it's fine, just painful. He can handle it.

But what on Earth is he gonna do now? No money, no change of clothes, nothing but this damn warding book. He had gotten that, and the necklace hanging around his neck for a fair price, the red headed cashier had probably given him a lesser price because of how shit he looked. She had been nice, unlike the rest. It's interesting how much things change when you can't keep your own hygiene up, or have clean clothes. How different people treat you. And yeah, they haven't had the greatest money situation ever, but this was a new level.

At least his head doesn't hurt, a payoff from all the training. Instead of sleeping, which he's too on edge to do, he's been spending his time training. Nothing big, he started with making some small object fly for a period of time, and then made the time longer and longer. Then he moved on to bigger objects, his duffel was a damn good training equipment, so another minus for him and plus for the demons. If he would count, there'd be hella more pluses for the demons than him.

He pulls the book out of his pocket, continuing the walk. Escaping usually had meant hopping into the Impala and speeding off, now he really can't just venture into the nature and hope for the best, so he's stuck wondering on the streets. 

He's tired, okay. But if he'd sit down and actually admit how tired and desperate he is, he wouldn't get up anymore. He'd sit there, till the demons would come, and do whatever their business with him is. Probably torture him, kill him, possess him, all that jazz. And to be honest, Sam isn't sure anymore how long he can avoid that fate. He's out of resources, out of the necessities he had been so glad to have, to survive. He's fucked six ways to Sunday, no money, nowhere to go, alone with demons. Demons who he can't fight. He has a knife, and not even his gun anymore. The Taurus had been in the duffel, the knife's in his boot as always. Another minus.

He can't run, he's stuck with demons. They'll kill him. He stops by the end of the alley. He's going to die this way. There's no way out. It's either them or him, and even with his weird powers, they won't work against a demon. He could try to trap them, but again he doesn't have anything to trap them with, no spray paint they usually use. He can't trap them really, can he? Which means trying to exorcise them is meaningless, he won't stand a chance. His death will become a weird event, and some hunter will come snoop around to realize it's the crazy Winchester's kid, the one with the fucked up powers, and let the demon go. Usually it takes up to five hunters to take down a demon, and that's still rare. Rarer for it to work without anyone dying.

Feeling desperate isn't anything new, but now, he thinks he might be running out of options.

°°°

The backdoor creaks open, the gravel cracking under the footsteps. It only took one completely destroyed pile of firewood that will now last probably two winters, an axe dug into a tree, and a heavily panting, though a bit more calm, Dean. Caleb proceeds with caution, he knows Dean's temper, and he has no idea how mad the gal is now. Bit better probably, but after the yelling twenty minutes backwards, he ain't sure.

"He's gone." Neutral tone, and he steps around the pile of firewood, already counting how many years they'll last if they don't get soaked in the rain. To that, Dean's shoulders relax only a bit, a lot less than what Caleb hoped for. Joshua was too mad to come talk to Dean, and Bobby was trying to figure out things too hard, so that had left Caleb. Probably the best option, he knows Dean well, way better than he ever knew Sam, and he knows his friend's temper. He's basically watched it lessen by the years, probably worn down by his family fighting, John's great actions, as they all witnessed today, and overall the hunting life.

Dean stays quiet, and that's pretty much what he expected. It's better, the man could be threatening to cut his balls of if he didn't leave him alone, or try and behead him with the axe. God, he's mad as well. For John to hide something like that, especially still now after all that has happened, there ain't words to describe how shitty move that was. And he had usually respected the man for being strategic, guess that only worked on a battlefield, not with family. But now, he shared Dean's point of view, he didn't want John anywhere near them, or their investigation for at least a while.

"Listen, Sam's still Sam. It's not like the demon fed him gallons of it's blood-" Dean turns around, huffing, void of humour. His face is tired, betrayed, worried, and Caleb shifts on his feet. 

"I know it's Sam. It's fucking Sam, some demon blood forcefed to him isn't going to change a thing. I'm just damn done with John, I mean, how could he hold something like this from us?" Caleb nods his agreement, and Dean sighs, lowering his head. In moments like this, Caleb is reminded of how much younger Dean is from him. He's eighteen, and Caleb tends to forget that. And the kid is tired, and he can't blame him. He takes a few step closer, goes to lean next to Dean, against the wall of the weak attempt of a cover for the firewood, he had built a while back. 

"It's fucked, man. It just is. But, John is gone now, and we can focus on getting that kid brother of yours home." It brings back a piece of the determination in Dean's eyes, and that's a win. He lets out another sigh, straightening against the wall, and that is a very easy mission accomplished for him. Dean is stronger than he could ever be, and damn is he glad to be the gal's friend. A pat on the shoulder, and they start making their way back inside. It's only around 6 PM, but the world looks darker. The coming winter is something Caleb really isn't looking forward to, and it's already November. It might even snow this year, they'll see. At least the wind is a bastard, and as the door closes, he's glad for the warmth.

Eyes come off the table, Joshua's stern expression melting off. He gives them a small smile, before focusing back to the map. Bobby's on the couch, seemingly thinking rather hard, not acknowledging their entrance at all.

"Whatdya thinkin, old man?" Bobby snaps out of his haze, and there's a mysterious look in his eyes. The gruff hunter spots Dean, and stands up, ignoring Caleb's question. He moves to Joshua, giving the two even a slight illusion of privacy in this way too small cabin. He checks his phone, and there's no new calls or messages about Sam, which dulls him a bit. How hard is it to find a fourteen-year-old kid? He could find a damn Jersey Devil faster than this. He can hear Bobby talking a bit quieter, something about how much of an idiot John is, which makes his lips twitch. At least Dean has Bobby, who's close with both of the boys.

"I'm thinking Iowa, depending how much money the kid has on him. Could stop to work, or then he's already on his way to Washington or something." Joshua mutters, torn between impressed and annoyed. Caleb has to agree, Sam is giving them all a headache, but he has never seen anyone criss-cross as well as this kid. He needs to praise him about it, when they get him back, it's honestly impressive.

His phone buzzing cuts off whatever he was about to say, and Joshua focuses back on the map as Caleb pulls his phone out. Probably one of the hunters around, asking if they needed help. For barely knowing the kid, the hunters have been rather vocal with their ability to help find the kid, which does make his chest ease.

"Caleb, hello?" Couple moments pass, before everything comes crashing down, again. An audible gasp gets their attention, and Caleb breathes out an incredilous breath, before uttering,

"Sam?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was intense. John's a dick, Dean's mad, and Sam's calling Caleb. Whatever for?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	13. You are my home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've seen your face a hundred times  
> Everyday we've been apart  
> I don't care about the sunshine, yeah  
> You made me cry, you told me lies  
> But, I can't stand to say goodbye  
> Mama, I'm coming home  
> I could be right, I could be wrong  
> It hurts so bad, it's been so long  
> Mama, I'm coming home

He watches the people pass, so caught up in their lives they wouldn't probably notice something odd. Something out of place, like him. The stairs are cold under him, and he knows he needs to start heading towards their meeting point. He really hopes Caleb will come alone, whether it is to kill him or something else. He doesn't want anyone else there, to witness his anticlimatic end. Probably a gun, if Caleb feels merciful. He won't put faith in it, he's lost it already.

It puts things in perspective, the upcoming death. You start to look around, actually see everything you're surrounded by, and Sam can't help but think if there is Heaven for him. There's something wrong with him, something else than these powers, something else than this life, something else than the feelings he has for his brother. There's something else wrong, something that feels so rooted in his chest he doesn't know where to begin. 

He doesn't know when he started to see things, see the faint lines, hazes of something in people's bodies, if he focused enough. The color scheme is simple, white, black or something in between. The flash of pure black he had seen in the last demon's chest, had been enough for him. It was something more, and deep down, Sam was terrified. This was just what he had imagined, something else starting to develop, something else starting to raise it's ugly head, and screw him over. It wasn't normal, it wasn't natural, and he'd never be. It would be a fitting end. 

He'd miss Dean, he already did. But the knowledge that he wouldn't even be in the same world anymore with him, it solified the feeling of loss. He'd be loosing Dean forever, but if he were to be honest, he'd probably lost him the second he became this way. Whenever it was, it had been the end Sam hadn't realized. John pulling a gun on him had solified that end, dug a grave for any of his hope of fixing things, of renunion. He'd never see John again, and he would always remember the hate, the disgust, in the eyes he once remembered held love for him. It didn't matter anymore.

Maybe he'd see Mary, in Hell. After all this, the powers, the connection to demons, the way Mary died in the hands of demons, Sam couldn't pretend. He had killed Mary, and maybe she'd be a memory, downstairs, of what he had taken away from Dean. Even if he didn't want it, God, he didn't want any of this-

He inhaled sharply, pushing the fear down. It'd be alright. He just had to believe, it'd be alright. Standing up from the stairs, he starts making his way towards the edge of the town, where the high school is located. It had been a landmark for Sam, so it'd be a fitting place. He let his mind wonder, let himself have this, the moment of grief for what could've been. And what had been.

The moments of happiness Sam hadn't felt with anyone else, the content buzz in his chest, the smile he couldn't deny with Dean. The love he felt in his heart. He'd never love anyone else like he has grown to love Dean, grown with time to realize just how his big brother is. With Sam, he's a protector, a caretaker, a teacher, a mother, a father, and a big brother. He's everything he would ever need. Dean taught him how to tie his shoes, how to pronounce those big words he teases him about, how to deal with bullies, how to make sure the 'pala's tires aren't overheated, how to cook himself some food, keep himself warm, how to solve those damn math problems that sometimes give him a headache, how to hold a gun, how to hold a knife, and how to use both of them. How to avoid someone who might want to harm him in any way, how to reach Dean if there's an emergency, how to keep himself safe from all the monsters in this world, human or supernatural, how to keep himself from bleeding out while waiting for Dean, but most importantly. With all the care, the protection, the patience and unconditional love, he learnt what love meant. What it felt to look at someone, have your heartbeat pick up, your chest feel lighter, and know there wasn't anything you wouldn't do for them, to keep them happy, keep them safe.

He learnt love from Dean,

_"It's alright, it's alright, I got you." Dean's shushing him, but he can't stop crying. His hand is starting to hurt with how hard he's holding his brother's shirt, with how hard he's shaking. He feels like he can't breathe, like any second now the werewolf in his dream is coming to show up, and rip Dean apart._

_John would be mad if he saw them, he's been trying to get them to seperate, and it's been hell. Sam doesn't care, he holds on to Dean, his tears probably soaking through the front of his shirt, as the older keeps on rubbing his back, brushing his fingers through his hair. Dean's coaxing him to breathe, but his breaths are shaky, uneven and short from the nightmare, but Dean's patient. He's always patient, with however long Sam needs. He's starting to calm down, his breaths turning into little huffs in between the hiccups, but he still trembles, no matter how tight Dean's arms are wrapped around him, a lot more relaxed than when the older woke up. He'd scared Dean, he knows that, knows it from the way the older's tone is a bit strained, tight of worry._

_When would the nightmares end, God?_

_"It's okay Sammy, you're safe, I got you." He wants to laugh, because it's not him he's afraid for. He's afraid for Dean, for his wonderful, brilliant big brother who follows Dad too blindly into hunts. He's scared, that one day, when Dean and Dad leave for a hunt, only Dad returns back to him. He'll be forced to bury his brother, the only constant in his life, someone he loves more than anything. Without Dean, God, he can't even think about it._

_He tightens his hold on the older, pressing closer even if they're mushed together pretty much from head to toe. Dean stays quiet, doesn't ask, and Sam doesn't know if he'd even be able to tell the older how he saw him get ripped apart, hear his screams as if they were right here, right in front of him, and how he could do nothing but watch._

_They both stay quiet, Sam's shaking starting to lessen, but neither of them make a move to seperate. Sam's comfortable like this, no matter if John says he's too old to sleep with his brother, Dean says it's fine, he's only ten. Dean's still rubbing his back, gentle circles from the small of his back, up to his shoulder blades. It's ridiculous how it makes Sam feel, how it warms his chest to be like this with Dean. The jaw that's resting on top of his head nudges him, and Sam backs off just enough so he can tilt his head back, give Dean a view of his face. He can't see the older properly in this lighting, but he sees the twitch of lips, the usual, sunshine smile that Dean has, and the hand in his hair stops, cupping his head for a moment._

_"You wanna talk about it?" He could never deny him. More gentle than any other voice he's ever heard, that just wants the best for him. Just wants him okay, safe. Quiet, ready to divert his attention if he'd answer negatively, ready to listen for hours, for however long Sam needs to talk, if he'd answer positively. His heart feels tight, as he stares back at Dean, but he doesn't take long to answer._

_"A hunt gone wrong." He says, quiet, not quiet wanting to face his nightmare again. Dean makes an understanding sound, brushing some of the leftover tears off his cheeks, still holding him close. Keeping him safe._

_"Sammy?" He looks back up, a lump in his throat almost making him cry again._

_"I'll do anything, anything at all, to keep you safe, kay? You're my little brother, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you." A tear slips down, but he smiles. Dean smiles back, his chest doesn't feel as tight, and when he burrows back down underneath Dean's chin, listening to the calm, constant beating of Dean's heart, he knows there isn't anything that he wouldn't do for Dean, as well. He'll just have to make the older believe it._

_"Get some sleep." They wouldn't mention the forehead kiss, like always. It would leave Sam feeling loved, comforted, and happy, and he couldn't understand how he sometimes managed to forget how much Dean loves him, even if he doesn't say it. He nods his head slightly, closing his eyes as Dean starts a familiar tune, quiet in the still of their night._

_"Hey Jude,"_

He doesn't swipe away the tear that slides down his cheek. He sits on the steps of the high school's football stadium. It's quiet, the sun has went down and there's only maybe an hour worth of light. He watches the sun go down, the shivering has left him, and even if the weight in his chest is as heavy as before, he smiles. 

His throat rattles, his humming the only sound around, as he continues the song that makes him feel comforted, Dean isn't here to sing it.

"Don't make it bad. Take a sad song-"

°°°

The line stays quiet, he feels shocked, out of place, is this a dream? Everyone stopped what they were doing, and wide anxious eyes stare at him, but he doesn't have the answers they need.

_"Hey, Caleb."_

Something snaps in his chest, and he breaths out shakingly, leaning against the table. Dean's moving towards him, but Joshua holds him back, giving him a meaningful look. They need to use their head. He swallows, trying to figure out what to say, because why on Earth is Sam calling him?

_"You wouldn't mind, uh, meeting me in Henderson?"_

He feels like a fish out of the water, trying to figure out what the right words are to say, and figure out just what in the Hell is going on in the kid's head!

"Uh, Henderson in Texas?" He looks at them, Dean's expression the worst. Or greatest, but Caleb can't join in the fun, he fears Sam has a plan none of them expected. His voice is quiet, it's not shaking, but if Caleb can hear just how shittily the kid is doing through a phone call, it's nothing compared to what it is in reality. Fear makes itself known, and he knows everyone can see it, from how their expressions morph.

_"Yeah. Meet me at the high school field, and please come alone."_ Before he can utter another word, the line cuts off. Still shaken, Caleb lowers the phone down, and immediately Dean jumps the gun.

"Henderson, Texas? That's only a few hours away! I'll take the Impala, Bobby maybe you should stay-"

"Just hold on, Dean. Caleb?" Joshua shuts Dean down, even if that's the most positive they've seen him in God knows how long. He breathes out, trying to understand. The answer is standing right in front of him, because he doesn't want to see it. God, please don't let it be that. Dread is pooling in his gut, and he feels like throwing up. A hand comes to his shoulder, and he forces himself together. How could Sam think he'd be able to kill-

He inhales, straightening up. He doesn't look at them, especially Dean. He doesn't want to say it outloud, but they need to plan this out. 

"Sam wants me to come alone. We're supposed to meet at the high school, that's located near the swamp." Joshua moves like he was struck, backing off from where he was standing by his side. They both know just what that swamp can do, what it can hide. And if Sam's thinking- God no, this can't be it.

"What is it?" Dean, his voice tight with what probably is dread, if not fear. He doesn't know what's going on, how deep in shit Sam is. He still sometimes dreams of the mass of bodies he and the Henderson's polices dug out from that swamp. A supernatural monster turned up to be a mass murderer, and the swamp hid the bodies for decades. Sam knows it, he had been adamant to know what had happened, and just how the bodies had been hidden so well. The kid had been shaken after the talk, and he knows Dean probably carries some hatred to them for it. 

"He's thinking I'll kill him, and he's making it easy for me to hide his-" He can't finish, he needs to go out. He heads to the back door, the air quick to hit him. 

"The swamp where, where the uh, bodies were hidden?" Dean asks, and there's an edge of hysteria to it. They all know the case, every hunter on this piece of land knows it, knows just how terrifying humans can be. Joshua can't blame him for being scared, but he forces his head to work. They need to analyze this, and work out a plan. 

"God." Bobby breaths out, and the man goes for the whiskey on the living room's table. He pours each of them a shot, even one to Caleb who left to get some fresh air, can't blame him. They all down theirs, and simultaneously pull their heart out of the game, and replace it with their head. They can't afford to fuck this up.

"Caleb has to go alone, we don't know if Sam has a way to figure out if he ain't alone, and we can't risk him running off. He's been in Henderson this entire time, and we haven't got a peep about it, and we've had people cross the town." Bobby's the one to break the silence, and Joshua keeps glancing at Dean, who looks even paler than Caleb did before leaving, his eyes looking haunted. He looks at Bobby, and sees he's looking at the same thing. Maybe this isn't the greatest time to talk about it, they should maybe wait. They need Dean's head in the game.

"Could it be a trap?" That catches Dean's attention, and the warning in those green eyes is enough confirmation that the man isn't going to fall apart.

"It's Sam. He isn't gonna fucking kill Caleb when he gets there-" 

"I meant, a demon one. A demon has Sam, and is using him as a hostage for something." It's a poor idea, which is why he said it. They need to know Dean can do this, and if the man can gather so much underlying anger ready to explode in seconds, he can do this. More importantly, they'll have Sam here soon, and the boys will work everything out. They'll have a laughing, smiling, decently happy Dean again, and Dean will make sure to dig Sam out of this hole. They have a lot to fix, but Joshua's certain they'll be able to work it out.

"Why would it only want Caleb, then? And Sam wouldn't risk getting someone else hurt. I don't think it's demon related." Bobby confirms it, and Dean settles. He can see a glint in the old hunter's eyes, he knows Joshua's little sneaky plan. What can he say, he's been called a little shit since he was four, might as well live up to the name, even if he ain't so little anymore. The back door opens, and Caleb's back, looking less haunted and fearful. He eyes them all, and Joshua gives him a smile, easing whatever worries he had. 

"Take your shot boy, and only one, you have a loose kid to pick up." Caleb blinks, and the tight atmosphere goes away, they got some job to do. 

It's ten minutes later that Caleb leaves, promise to return in under five hours, and Joshua knows he'll be breaking speed limits. They watch him leave, and Bobby wonders off to the bedroom, muttering something about needing a break from all this drama, and he's left alone with Dean.

Heart tight, he can't help but voice his concerns. 

"Dean..."

"I know," There's a determined glint in his eyes, as he turns to look at Joshua. His chest looses the tightness, but the worry gnaws in his stomach, even as the next words sound like an oath,

"I'll fix him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeello everyone! Seems like it's been forever. You won't believe what a dumbtruck I am. I went ahead and did a little jig on the ice, ended up cracking my radius bone, a bone near my elbow. So guess what, I'm writing with one finger, gotta say I haven't felt madness like this before lol. 
> 
> To the chapter, you know it, you wished for it. The reunion. Next chapter my lads, buckle in because I am going to make myself cry writing it. Can't promise when I'll update it, but I've been talking about the book on my tumblr, I'll mention probably at some point where I'm with it. Again, thank you for reading, the response to this book has blown my mind, I can't thank you all enough. All the sweet comments, the kudos, I never thought someone would like it this much. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you all. Stay safe loves, I'll see you soon.


	14. Love brings you home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's got eyes of the bluest skies  
> As if they thought of rain  
> I'd hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain  
> Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place  
> Where as a child I'd hide  
> And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by  
> Whoa, oh, oh  
> Sweet child o' mine  
> Whoa whoa, oh, oh, oh  
> Sweet love of mine

_Welcome to Henderson_

He passes the sign, he had barely even noticed it. Driving for around two hours straight, he's had time to talk on the phone with everyone, and make some kind of a plan. Not that having a plan is making Caleb any less nervous. He's more nervous than when he lost his virginity to that Stacey girl who thought he was as well twenty-one-years. He shouldn't be nervous, it's Sam after all. The same kid he's known for years, who he has watched grow from a little toddler with a very protective big brother, to a teenager with still a very protective big brother. He doesn't know how they managed to convince Dean to stay, and not bolt after them, or meet them halfway or anything. 

Deep breaths, no pressure Caleb. Only that you're handling a emotionally unstable teenager with psychic powers who you'd never want to hurt, and who has been through a lot of shit all by himself and can bolt any second. No pressure at all, huh. Dean would fry his ass if he came back without Sam. 

The call had ended roughly five minutes ago, and Caleb already feels like he can't do this. Everyone's rooting for him, expecting him to bring Sammy back, and what if he fails? What if he scares the kid off? What if Sam's hurt? What if when he refuses to- to kill the kid, Sam will take matters to his own hands? 

He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, that's not happening. He's getting the kid back to his brother, even if he'll have to drag his ass there. Sam needs Dean by his side, and Caleb doesn't want to imagine what has driven one of the strongest people he knows into the brink of such deep desperation. He doesn't want to imagine, but he can't stop. He needs the kid with Dean, he'll fix it. They'll all help. Damn, he'll stop hunting for however long it takes to get Sam to his feet. He can do this. It's Sam, he can do this.

Plan is simple, don't scare Sam off, and get him back to Jasper in one piece. Hopefully alive, and healthy. But with the math Joshua had done during the call, it seems like the kid's been without food for days, and without proper food this entire time. They don't have any info that he would've been working, but well, they were searching the entire country for Sam just for the kid to be basically next town. He hopes, from the bottom of his heart, that Joshua is wrong, Sam is healthy, and whatever injuries he got from the crash were just some scratches, nothing more.

The sun is down, pretty much no light left except for the traffic lights. He's heard there's snow coming up North, it is November after all, but they shouldn't get snow in Texas for a while at least. Not that Caleb cares for snow, he hates that his good ol' shoes can't handle the weather, but he still isn't buying new ones. That's his problem, but he just likes the boots, okay? 

He pulls up to the gravel road, eyeing the high school up ahead. He drums his fingers against the wheel, trying to spot a sign of the young Winchester. He pulls up to the football stadium's parking lot, apparently the only one they have. It's Saturday, so there's no other cars, or people for that matter around, probably something Sam had thought about as well. He looks around in the dark, but he doesn't spot anything. Could it be something else, after all? He checks his boot, makes sure the silver knife is in there, not that it helps a lot with demons, but he's still betting on it being just Sam. The kid will probably find him, not the other way around. Can't have missed him coming.

He closes the door, not bothering to make it quiet, the crispy air around him a good reminder for why he should've taken the other jacket. Well, being cold keeps him alert. It's dark, after all, and he can't rule out the possibility of this being something else. He takes a deep breath, and moves to head towards the school. Could the kid have broken inside? It would be warmer, and if the kid has no-

"Hey Caleb." He jumps, spinning around. Breathing quickly, he takes a second to look at the person in front of him, because this can't be-

He takes a sharp breath, forcing himself to calm down even if something crawls under his skin. His heart isn't calming down, and the kid really shouldn't be scaring an old man like him. 

"Heya, Sammy." He breaths the worlds out, watching as the kid squirms a little, stepping a little more into the light. If he thought he looked bad in darkness, fucking Christ, what the hell happened? 

The first thing he can see is that the kid is pale, and the more he looks the more he sees a yellow undertone, immediately alerting him that something isn't right. Sam's still in the same clothes, he supposes from what Dean had told them, his shirt looks like it has been ripped from couple of places, for bandages, or from fighting, he doesn't know. And the shirt looks way, way too big on him. The jeans are barely hanging onto him, and Caleb notices that the button has been ripped off, bringing a feeling of dread. Sam's hair is a mess, past the point of being greasy, now just a matted mess. It's all tangled, and it looks strange on the spot by the kid's temple.

There's some dried blood around the hairline, and whatever hope Caleb had for the kid to be unharmed, flies straight out of the window. His face is sunken, in no way Caleb has ever seen anyone's face be, a little grey from around the cheekbones that pop out way too easily. His eyes are rimmed, and surrounded by evidence that the kid has not been sleeping. The bags are so dark, that if Sam would tilt his head downwards, they'd look near black in the light. The hazel eyes aren't bright, aren't curious of what stories Caleb has this time to tell, aren't eagerly waiting for him to tell them, but are just blank, vacant. It looks like the kid might've been crying, with the little puffiness, but Caleb can't think, can't draw conclusions of what has happened. He's staring at Sam, this kid that's his family, and he starts to realize just how badly they've failed him. 

Before he can come out of the shock, Sam speaks, quiet again, "I uh, I have a book in my jeans for wardings, for demons and some malignant ghosts, and uh," Sam shuffles on his feet, and Caleb takes a while to realize the kid is letting him know what he has, that could be useful for them, for the people he thinks are going to kill him, and God, how is this for a reminder that this half dead looking kid is their Sam?

"I have a necklace, that, prevents you from being possessed by, uh, demons, and yeah... Dean could maybe use it." His heart breaks little by little, started from the second he saw the kid, and keeps on cracking. He's still looking out for his big brother, who for all he knows hates him, wants him dead. How could they have let this happen?

Sam's clearly waiting for him to say something, or point blank shoot him already, and Caleb feels his throat clog. Fuck, he needs his head clear, he needs to nail this, deep breaths.

"I'm not going to kill you, kiddo." Sam physically falters, his eyes widening a bit, and he already looks like he might bolt. He isn't playing by his plan, and that must scare the kid. He's afraid, God, he needs to be careful. He keeps his hands visible, and crouches a little, coming a little more face to face with Sam, who's now torn between looking distrustful, and afraid.

"Sam, do you know-" He breaks off, needing to swallow around the emotion. He needs to nail this, c'mon Caleb don't let your emotions ruin this. He takes a deep breath, burying the raging sadness and stress from all this time, and tries again,

"Kid, I'm not here to kill you, or anything you think I might. I don't know how badly John screw up, to make you think-" He shifts his jaw, this isn't the time, "To make you think that you're some kind of a monster, that deserves to be killed. Sam, God, we don't want you dead, it's the farthest from it!" Sam stays quiet, unmoving, and Caleb doesn't know what to do suddenly, desperation threatening to kick in. The kid's staring at him, and for the first time since he got here, there seems to be something going on behind those puppy eyes. 

"We... When you took that bus to Lafayette," Sam's eyes narrow, and Caleb hurries to continue, "The bus you left in the middle of the trip, it crashed." The tense shoulders tighten even more, before with a quiet wince Sam loosens them, and Caleb doesn't dare to ask even if worry bubbles in his gut.

"It crashed with another vehicle, and it fell off a cliff. There were no survivors." He gives the kid a second to process, sees it all happen, and even if he hates himself for it, he prepares to tackle the kid, if he were to bolt now. He can't let him get away, not when they're so close. He sees the second Sam pulls the strings together, his eyes snapping to Caleb, wide and with a urgent desperation in them.

"Is Dean-"

"Dean is alright, well, as alright as he can be." It lessens some of the worry, and it seems like Sam can't understand just why his big brother would suffer from this. They're both bullheads, ain't them? 

"Sam, you need to understand this, when you disappeared, and when we found out just what had been going on, it fucked Dean over." And now there's worry, even if it's mixed with confusion. 

"When he called me, the first time to let me know what had happened, he sounded like shit. He'd call me later, drunk off his ass, and he'd cry," Sam's eyes sharpen, maybe he can actually understand how much he means to Dean, to them all. Feeling his own emotions come up, he bottles only little of them down, feeling his eyes start to burn as he remembers.

"We talked for hours, or mostly he. He'd keep on telling me how shitty brother he is, how he should've known, how he would've never let it happen, and just how badly he wanted you back. He was shit, Sam." There are tears starting to form, but he needs the kid to understand. 

"And when we thought you were dead-" He stops for a second, letting the singular tear down his cheek, remembering the bone deep pain, everywhere. How it broke him to have Joshua call him, and let him know they didn't need to search for Sam, that he had found the kid, that the kid he has known for half of his life, was dead in a ditch, thinking there was no one that would grieve him, no one that loved him. 

"We thought you were dead." He barely gets the words out, the tremble in his voice getting a bit too noticeable. He's overwhelming the kid, he needs to calm down, he can't scare him off. To his slight relief, Sam doesn't look like he's planning to bolt. His head is tilted as he watches Caleb, his eyes empathic as if he isn't listening to his own story, but it looks like he might be understanding just what they've been through.

"Kid, we'd never want you dead. Dean would never want you dead. He'd rather cut his own head off than break a hair on your head, I know that. You need to know it too, because it's been Hell, knowing you're out there and some fucking demons are onto you, and that we can't do shit about it." He's desperate, practically begging for the kid to understand, to let them take care of him, because he doesn't have to do this alone.

"You don't have to do this alone. You don't have to fight everything and everyone, if you'll just let us help you." There's a vulnerable glint, and Caleb knows he's broken through. For a while, but that's all he needs.

"Please." He adds, staring at Sam, trying to somehow show, let him know just how fucking desperate they are. He doesn't know if the kid can see it, or feel it, but he tries to hang onto it, tries to make him understand, as he watches the conflict happen. The minutes, could be hours, that he waits, feel like probably the longest in his life. He's half ready to leap, but he wants the kid on their side. Sam moves, his eyes shifting from the ground, back to him, and Caleb is reminded of how young he is. 

He's scared, Caleb can see it now that Sam lets him, basically shivering on his spot. Sam swallows, tears brimming in his eyes,

"I think I need help." And they're moving, Caleb quickly closing their distance as he draws Sam against him, wrapping his arms around the kid who's still only tall enough to reach his chest. He shakes, with small, mute sobs, and Caleb closes his own eyes, letting the tears go as relief washes over him. He can feel a makeshift bandage around the kid's collarbone, and eases his hold, figuring out there's something wrong there as well. Sam's here, Caleb has him, he's safe, and maybe Caleb can let go of the guilt now, he might not be responsible for breaking the Winchester family after all.

"Let's get you home, kiddo."

°°°

If Sam had known-

No, he can't afford to go down that road. He's already tired, hurting, and just emotionally so exhausted. Caleb had come, and pretty much wrecked everything he had forced himself to believe. He didn't know what to think, how to act, and he pretended that it was the only reason he went to sit down in the back seat, not the nauseous feeling he got when Caleb opened the passenger door for him. He could pretend he was just confused and tired, but it was also true. But there was too many things wrong right now, and he couldn't make them right.

Maybe I won't have to.

Caleb had said he didn't need to be alone anymore. Didn't need to do this alone. God, he wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe, that the house that was only ten minutes away now according to Caleb, held people that loved him, instead of people who would destroy him. He could feel comforted by how Caleb had gently asked him just what was wrong, in the physical sense, and how he had given him the first aid kit, ready to help but not pushing himself onto Sam. He appreciated it. Already the antiseptic was working, from the way it was burning on his still bugging wounds, and how the ice pack he now held against his collar had numbed the pain. Caleb had promised they'd fix him up properly when they'd get home, and Sam hadn't missed the way Caleb had watched him work, eyes fixated with his boney hands. He was thin, he knew it. The breakfast bar Caleb had for him he would've eaten in seconds, if Caleb hadn't warned him about the possibility of throwing up. He didn't want to mess up Caleb's car, so he ate it slowly.

Shit, he was starting to get real nervous. Caleb was noticing it, with how he was checking his mirrors, and it was only a matter of time before the older might ask something. But how on Earth is he supposed to face Dean? The older might not hate him for his freakiness, but killing his mother? Their entire lives have been dedicated to hunting the thing that killed Mom, and Sam is the thing, so how could he face Dean, knowing he killed his mother?

The car slowing down stopped his thinking, and before he could panick, he noticed that Caleb was pulling over. The older turned on his seat, Sam barely seeing him in the darkness. 

"Wanna tell me what's bugging you?" Immediately he couldn't shut his mouth, and without a second of hesitation he blurted it out.

"I killed Mom." Caleb stayed quiet, probably shocked from his sudden burst as well as the info. Would he change his mind now? Now that he knows? Is he gonna kill him?

"Sam, Sam, Sam!" His shoulder is screaming out in pain as his chest heaves, but he can't stop panicking. Caleb is climbing over, and Sam wants to double over, the car suddenly feeling so small and so restraining, he can't breathe he can't breathe-

"Sam, c'mon, deep breaths. It's okay, c'mon, I got you kiddo, deep breaths." He tries to follow Caleb's breathing, the older holding his injured shoulder, trying to keep it still as Sam panicks. He killed Mom, Dean's gonna hate him he's gonna kill him-

"Kiddo, please-" Caleb's starting to sound panicked too, and fuck, Sam doesn't want to make him worry he doesn't want any of them to worry God he's a burden isn't he. He tries to breathe, but the pain and the panic mixed aren't making it easy at all. There's tears pooling, he can't make it stop please someone make it stop-

_"Sam! Sam, baby brother, listen to me!"_

Dean?

_"Listen to me, listen to my voice. I'm here, I'm here Sammy, you're alright."_

He opens his eyes, but he can't see Dean anywhere. Is he hallucinating? He turns to look at Caleb, who's holding his phone towards Sam. The shock stopped the panic, he just stares at the phone, unable to react. Dean's on the phone. Dean's right there. 

"Dean?" He asks, voice so tight he almost can't get it out. There's butterflies in his stomach, his heart is beating loud in his ears, and the anxiety is driving him crazy.

_"I'm here, Sammy. God, I'm right here kiddo."_

He's choked up, and Sam's eyes start to well up at the sound. He takes a shaky breath, and doesn't hesitate as Caleb hands the phone over, grabbing it and bringing it to his ear.

"De?" He gets it out, a raw sound that makes his throat hurt, makes the tears break out, slide down his face but he doesn't care. He's holding his breath, his hands shaking even as Caleb grabs them, and Sam feels a flash of gratefulness, before he forgets it again. 

_"Right here, I'm not leaving, ever again. God, I'm here now kiddo, I'm so sorry."_

Dean makes a sound, almost like a sob, and Sam feels his heart twist. No, no, no, Dean's alright, he's alright, he's sorry, wait what?

"T-there's no need to be sorry." Why would he be sorry? 

_"I love you, I'm sorry I didn't say it enough-"_

Sam chokes on his own sob, but he feels a smile try to break through. Dean sounds like shit, but he's alright, he's gonna be alright, he doesn't hate him not now maybe not ever-

"I love you too." He chokes the words out, tears blurring his vision again before he blinks. Something is easing in his chest, the tightness starting to leave, and Sam let's out a long breath. His mind is screaming Dean Dean Dean and his heart feels like it might explode. Does he have Dean back? Does he have him back?

He clutches to the phone the rest of the trip, neither of them able to say anything new, both whispering quiet, tearful apologies, and as Caleb pulls to the yard of the small house, Dean's already flying out of the door. Sam doesn't know where the phone goes from his hand, he only knows he can't get to Dean fast enough. 

The second they collide, everything snaps back. Sam can't get enough air, Dean's suddenly everywhere. He's wrapped around him, pressed against his aching body. He still fits under Dean's chin, still can manage to grip at Dean's back without hurting their arms. He's digging his fingers in, can't help it as desperation kicks in. He wants to melt into Dean, wants to make sure he can never leave, he'll never be gone again. The hands around his back are familiar, with the same rough edges, and it's as if they haven't been apart for eternity. It feels like an eternity, but Dean's here, God, he's here he's here-

He breaths in the familiar smell, eyes full of tears as his heart screams in joy. He can't get close enough, and he's squirming against Dean, never wanting to part but wanting to be closer. It isn't an issue for long, Dean takes a second to heave Sam to the air, wrap his arms around him again before Sam can realize what happened, closing his legs around Dean's waist. He's higher now, able to nest straight into Dean's neck, finally have him close enough. 

By the time his heart rate goes down, he's warmer than he's been in weeks, completely snug against Dean, who's breathing into his neck, the warm air had stopped tickling him at some point. The relief, everything, is taking everything off his shoulders, and for the first time in days, Sam feels good. He brings his hand up, the giddy warmth in his chest something he hopes that never leaves, and brushes his hand through Dean's hair, trying to bring his head closer. He is gushing over the limits, the love he's always had for his brother threatening to overflow everything else, and Sam was fine with it. 

He could feel Dean huff into his neck, and before he could break the moment, a hand carded through his own hair, and he physically melted. Now Dean was laughing, probably the most beautiful sound Sam's ever heard, and then he's laughing as well, and finally they pull their faces back. Their noses almost brush, and Sam can't stop smiling. Dean stares at him, in some sort of awe, the green eyes so full of love and fondness it sends another hot jolt into his heart. 

Dean looks the same, again as if eternity hasn't passed. Sam knows it's been merely couple months, but it feels like years, decades. The freckles Sam used to count when he couldn't sleep are still all there, there's not a wrinkle anywhere, even in the corners of his eyes as Dean smiles, wide and purely happy. His cheeks seem a little more sharper, he's probably lost a bit of weight, but that's alright, Sam will handle it. His lips are bitten from what Sam assumes is the reason for his own bitten lips, and he quickly moves his eyes, forced to look at the green eyes he could recognize from thousands of green eyes. The inner ring is more yellowish, and the rest is close to a green apple, but they were full of emotion. His face morphs, and as the deep grief he's never seen in Dean's eyes suddenly appears, and the older wraps him back closer, he remembers what Caleb said.

He can't stand Dean sad, and immediately his chest tightens again, and he tightens his hold around Dean's neck. He doesn't know what to do, usually it's the other way around, but it's Dean, he'd do anything for Dean.

"I'm here. It's alright." He repeats what Dean has told him for years, and it seems to work. Dean has a hand on his head, keeping him impossibly close, and Sam's neck should be cramping up from this position, but he doesn't care. He snuggles as close as he can, keeps on whispering the words that have become a mantra for him, during their time apart. He closes his eyes, letting himself soak in this, soak in Dean, and breathe easy for the first time in months. He has Dean. There's nothing else he'd need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or then it takes me a day. Well, there you have it. A bit longer than usual, but I really really hope you like it. Do give me some feedback, I want to improve as much as I can to give you guys the best. Thank you for reading, and for all the comments, they mean a lot.


	15. Hold my heart (when it still beats)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just close your eyes  
> The sun is going down  
> You'll be alright  
> No one can hurt you now  
> Come morning light  
> You and I'll be safe and sound  
> Don't you dare look out your window darling  
> Everything's on fire  
> The war outside our door keeps raging on  
> Hold on to this lullaby  
> Even when the music's gone

Slamming the door closed behind her, she looked around. It didn't take long to locate the reason she was here, and seriously, was the old, victorian house necessary? As if they didn't have enough trouble trying to stay under the radar of the winged egoistical dickbags. But well, she had to trust that they knew what they were doing.

If she had known yesterday where, and more importantly who she was meeting, she would've gladly switched into the crossroad section. Messing with angels, Azazel himself, she didn't get paid enough for this, in fact she didn't get paid at all. 

All the clocks had stopped, and most of the electronics she noticed had been unplugged, well, guess the electronics constantly going haywire would get on your nerves. She walked through the old, creaky, and disturbingly silent house, heading towards the bone-chilling mass of energy. Swallowing tightly, she felt her hands start to clammy up. If only Lisa would see her now, she'd laugh herself back to grave.

Turning in the last corner, she halted, eyeing the demon by the door. He turned to look at her, scanning her up and down with a bit unnerving glance. She suppressed a shiver, keeping her head high and approached.

"He's busy. Been there for hours, you might as well tell me what such a pretty lady like you are, is doing here." Even with the disgusting tone, there was impatience and she didn't dare to play.

"Name's Aubree. Got a message from that sister of yours." Tom huffed, clearly not appreciating the title, and Aubree bit her tongue. She better not play, if Tom is anything like his sister said he is, she better be careful. She shifted on her feet, and Tom looked back at her, eyes narrowing, and she hurried to continue through the lump in her throat.

"She says that Sam's back with Dean, and they're piled up in some old shack in Jasper. John ain't far, he's been staying in the local motel for the couple of days, and he's trying to figure out the same as him." She inclined towards the door that seperated them and Azazel. The room has been nerve-wrackingly quiet and she maybe even doesn't want to know, does she? 

As if on cue, a loud booming shakes the entire house, Aubree shrieking and jumping away from the door. The pots and pans are making awful lot of noise, her ears are starting to ring, what the fuck is going on!

And then it stops, just like that. She pants through the fear, eyes locked with the door. He's gonna come out isn't he, he's gonna send her back to Hell like everyone says-

Nothing happens, the room carries on dead silent as if it didn't just break sound walls. Calming down, she glances at Tom who had moved as well, standing next to her by the wall across. His eyes are locked with the door, seemingly focused, Aubree doesn't know on what and doesn't care. This is the last time she works as a messenger, this is fucking horrifying. She thought being a demon meant screwing people over, not getting screwed over by some freaky ass bigger demons. And nobody even tells her shit, and she goes here to risk her fucking neck to just deliver some message about some wimpy Winchester kid. Couldn't they just nail him off the board if he's being such a troublemaker.

"Finish up." He says, not even looking at her, and Aubree wants to wave her hands and scream. Did he not fucking see what just happened?! Taking a deep breath she recalls what she came here for, promising herself a nice little vacation in the Bahamas after this shit. Oh yeah, the Winchesters.

"So, uh, they don't think John is gonna show his face soon, so he'd be an easy target. But wait, they said something about the kid having some kind of a warding book, which could cause some issues. The lads back there just want to know whether to snatch the kid now, or if there's some bigger plans." Tom doesn't get to answer, as the ominous, terrifying energy inside the room starts moving, and a scream almost makes it through her throat as the door slams open, glowing yellow eyes staring right at her. Her heart plummets in her chest, and fear freezes her, her breath catching.

The power is practically oozing from him, and Aubree feels suffocated by it. It's everywhere, seems to soak in the walls, in the floors, in her. She's biting her tongue so hard it bleeds, standing completely still, terrified to move. The glowing doesn't leave the eyes, and they stay locked on her as Azazel straightens up, a way too familiar and terrifying grin splitting his face. She sees the edge of yellow teeth, the old man he's possessing is dead, which explains the lack of heart beat. A distant sound, washing machine across the house starts making noise, this awful screeching sound as it breaks itself, the room temperature seemingly dropping. The door now open, she can see inside. Nothing unusual, but bowl on the table that oozes of something big and dark. The door slams closed, and she jumps, ready to bolt if she needs to.

"So, little Sammy is back with Dean, huh?" It's a question, Aubree too stuck in the tone that sends shivers down her spine, making her slightly tremble. Trying to find her voice, she clears her throat, a high-pitched sound getting out.

"Y-yes." She stammers out, eyes wide as she stares at Azazel, a Prince of Hell, that's at least hundreds of thousands years older than her, and damn, so much more powerful. The man who she knows is behind thousands of murders, varying from barely born babies to some old priests, the man who just tilts his head now, the terrible grin not leaving his face.

"Sweetheart, be a dear and tell everyone back in Jasper that-" The smile drops, as drops Aubree's heart, the change in the mood suddenly even more terrifying than before, as those terribly calculated eyes stare down at her. She feels like shrinking under that gaze, and even Hell feels more welcoming now.

"-no one, will touch the kid. Don't let him know you're there, don't let anyone know you're there. Focus on Johnny boy, I want to know just exactly what he knows. And do remind the morons, we don't know what the kid can see, so they better stay hidden and keep their mouths shut before we know what's happening." The last words were hissed, nearly leaving her to pee her pants. Inhale, one, two, exhale, one two, don't pee your pants, don't pee your pants. She's suffocating, the air is cold and it's wrapping around her throat, she can't breathe fuck she can't breathe-

"G-got it!" She squeaks out, and the pressure is gone, leaving her panting as cold sweat forms everywhere. Her heart is pounding, she feels dizzy but the fear is keeping her up from falling to the floor. This is the last time, never fucking again will she do this. Azazel's grin is back and she takes a step back as he turns to Tom. She leans against the wall, trying to breathe and not focus on the energy that almost killed her, floating just a feet away.

"Get in." Tom only glances at her, an enjoying smile on his face. Motherfucking sadists, all of them. 

"Off you go, little dove." She doesn't wait another second, practically scrambling towards the nearest exit, heart pounding as her ears echo from the two men's laughter. She shoulders against the door, almost falling over as the air welcomes her. It's warmer than it is inside the house, and fuck, is it actually cold in there. She breathes deeply, the tight feeling in her chest starting to leave. She needs to get out of here for real.

She heads for the old Mustang parked by the road, cursing under her breath as the adrenaline starts to wear off. The last time she's doing something like this, fuckers can figure out their own message system, she's done with this. Opening the door she slides in, revving the engine as she turns to Jasper. 

She's so going to Bahamas after this shit is done. Stupid demons and their stupid master plans. 

°°°

It takes them a while to untangle. Long enough, that Sam had fallen into some level of sleep, coming back to reality as Dean's hands moved to his back, and he realized how badly his legs were starting to cramp. Feeling awkward, still overwhelmed, and exhausted to the bone, he carefully untangled his feet, falling back to his ground level. Thank God his legs held his weight, and Dean's arms stayed around him as an additional comfort. It felt right, to be back, to be with Dean, even if he doesn't know how long it's for. It could be for today, this week, or God knows how long. Before anything else can happen, Dean is cupping his face, crouching down at his level, and Sam feels warmth explode in his face. 

But Dean isn't focusing on that, his eyes are critical, scanning Sam's face, pausing at the blood near his hairline and swallowing while looking at something on his cheek. Feeling a little self-conscious, he moves to rub his cheek, to make sure there's no dirt on it or something, when his shoulder explodes in pain. He can't help the wince as he stumbles a bit, gritting his teeth as he takes small breaths. How had he forgotten about his fucking collarbone?

There are hands on his body he recognizes are Dean's, the only reason he lets them touch him. He can hear them talk, but focuses on the flaring pain, and how to dull it down. He tries to straighten up, coming face to face with Dean who's face is nothing but worry, and tries to smile. It does barely nothing, Dean only huffs with a temporary fond look, before focusing back on Sam, eyeing his shoulder with worry.

"Sam," Dean swallows around the word, and his voice is raspier than what Sam had realized, from dehydration or something else, doesn't matter, he'll figure out what it is, and how to fix it. He probably hasn't been drinking enough.

"Can you tell me where you're hurt, little brother?" To be called 'little brother', and have someone ask how he is, almost brings tears to his eyes. A part of him that he thought died as he left Dean comes back soaring, aching for someone to care for him and love him. Feeling childish, he forces it down, swallowing as he tries to comprehend what's happening. He knows this all will hit much harder later, when he actually realizes Dean is here, he isn't a hallucination, a figment from a dream, or a vision. Which now mentioned, brings dread to his gut. How much does Dean know?

"Sammy?" He blinks, remembering to breathe. He's doing nothing to ease Dean's worries, who knows why the older even worries, and notices they're being surrounded. Dean's glancing to his right, and Sam turns his head. He's hit with another gut punch, the people standing a couple feet away something he hadn't thought about. Bobby, Joshua and Caleb are all here, all watching them, watching him with something he can't understand. Feeling a tingle of worry, he shifts on his feet, moving a bit closer to Dean as he gets the urge to bolt. Bobby's shoulders sag, he doesn't know why, and a familiar hand rubs his back, and Sam relaxes immediately at the still familiar touch.

"They're okay, I mean, they know Sammy, and they don't care. We won't hurt you." The last sentence has an odd sound to it, and Sam glances at Dean, who looks a bit torn, and a bit sad. He brushes against the older, forcing him to come out of his head, and really, Sam needs to work on Dean, the older is seemingly stressed or something. Maybe because he's here now. They don't know what he can do. 

Swallowing, he shifts on his feet, offering a weak, "Hey," to the people watching. It makes Caleb and Bobby make a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a huff, but Joshua doesn't say anything. Is he mad about Sam running from him? Had he accidentally broken his car, when he held him back? He didn't mean it, fuck, he needs to apologise to him when he can. No one says anything back to him, and Dean nudges him again. Turning to look at him, still feeling so weirded out that he can do that, he can see his brother, talk to him, touch him. Feels kind of weird. He remembers what Dean asked as the older rises an eyebrow, something a bit humorous in his small smile. At least he's smiling, that's good.

"Oh, yeah, uh.." He starts to think, where exactly is he hurt? Collarbone for fact, then there's still the old marks from the werewolf that just don't want to close, couple scratches, he's hit his head a couple of times. Something else? Oh, ribs! Probably not broken but they hurt, should probably mention that as well, so no one has a reason to get mad at him for withholding information.

"Well, I think I broke my collarbone, probably. Then the werewolf clawed me up back when.." He trails off, but Dean nods, giving him an encouraging smile. He tries to smile back, feeling again out of place, and continues.

"I've hit my head, so there's probably some old bleeding but I think that's fine now, and then just some scratches. Nothing big." He makes the last part sound a bit cheerier, it's still a list of some little injuries that could worry Dean. The older doesn't seem to care for his try for a lighter atmosphere, tightening his lips and glancing back at the rest.

"We got the good stuff, wanna get inside?" Joshua talks to him with kind of the same tone Dean had used. Kind of wary, a bit like the tone you use when you talk to a kid, unsure of their reaction, not wanting to spook them off. Well, can't blame them, he's been running a lot. Coward move, he knows.

He glances at Dean, doesn't even know why he does it, but the smile eases his worries, and he nods back at Joshua, who gives him a little smile, before they head towards the little house. It's humble, to say, with a little porch on front. Painted white, the paint has cracked over the years, the windows are dirty, but it feels good. It feels decent, he gets no weird vibes from it, so he guesses it's fine. Dean's hand on his back, they walk towards the door, Sam looking around. It's mostly woods around them, the road they've came here on had lasted probably a mile or more from the highway, so they were a bit far, which was fine.

Stepping inside, he immediately feels immense gratefulness, the air conditioning filling the small living area with warm air. Warm air Sam hasn't felt like in weeks, bless it. The kitchen is to the left from the door, a simple, normal looking one with a bit older equipment. The thing that catches his attention however, is the table, more importantly the map laid on it, spanning from edge to edge. It's a map of the USA, with lines drawn, and he leaves Dean's side to look closer. 

"Sam-" It's a tight sound, unsure and bit hesitant, and he understands the reason why pretty soon. The red lines around it start from Breitung, and it feels a bit odd to see his whole travel now front of him. Each town he checks, and there's small notes next to each one of them. Mostly, 'cash, bus stop, one night' or 'no night, cash' and 'motel two nights, cash, bus'. He frowns around Arkansas, trying to read the small letters that seem to be written in hurry, about Lafayette, the crash. 

His throat tightens, and the calm, comforting feeling on his shoulders disappear, replaced by cold he should be used to. He swallows, aware that people are moving to his vision, but he stares at the word 'trucker', feeling his heart ache. God, Robert.

"Sam, hey, kiddo. It's alright." Caleb's voice is familiar, and has always had that lulling sense to it, and gently he's being guided away from the table, the map closed. He snaps out of the haze, startling Caleb in the process. He flashes a smile, "Sorry," and feels a bit bad when he steps out of Caleb's hold, and the other's face saddens a bit. 

"You wanna come to the bedroom, so I could take a look at the stuff?" Alone, goes unsaid, and Sam should feel glad he and Dean still have that communication. He doesn't know what the older caught on, but he should be grateful that it's only going to be Dean who sees it all. He nods, with a small smile, trying to shake the feeling off, and Christ, he needs to get used to that grin Dean now uses a lot. It's just so much brighter, suddenly so much happier. Dean moves towards the hallway by the living room, and Sam follows, giving an apologetic smile to everyone, promising himself to talk to all of them seperately come tomorrow. He hesitates with Uncle Bobby, who's smile to him differs from others. It's sadder, maybe he feels a bit more bad being excluded than Joshua or Caleb. He's going to talk to them, tomorrow. Or today, it's already one AM, he should catch some shut-eye.

He follows Dean past four doors, one slightly ajar, so he knows that one is the bathroom. The others are probably bedrooms or offices then. Dean keeps glancing over his shoulder, to make sure he hasn't bolted, and Sam gives him a smile each time. It takes seconds to reach the door, last one on the right, and they step into a decently sized bedroom. With only a twin bed, some old cabinet that seems to work as a place for clothes and pretty much everything else. It's good, and Sam gazes longingly at the bed that looks so warm, so cozy. Dean sits by the end of the bed, patting the spot beside him, and Sam comes along, feeling a little out of place, once again. Dean gives him a smile, leaning over to grab something out of the bed, and never has Sam been happier to see a classic Winchester home-made med stash.

"I know you're probably exhausted, so I'll be quick. I don't think sling now is a good idea, since you'll be horizontal soon, but in the morning sure. Now, what was that about some werewolf?" He blinks at Dean, feeling a little gooey as the older looks back with that fond look. He needs to get used to that, really, it's ridiculous.

"Uh, yeah. It's on my side, didn't get the chance to ever wrap them properly, or disinfect, which is why they're still being annoying." He tugs at his shirt, feeling again a little self-conscious. Careful with his shoulder, Dean jumps in to help him, tugging his shirt up carefully. The edge of his necklace dangles out, and Dean notices it after the scratches, but doesn't say anything, yet. He inspects the wounds in silence, careful hands prodding the area around them, making sure they aren't deeply infected at least. Sam shifts a little, and Dean drops his hand, Sam immediately feeling a bit worse. His hands are warm, okay, nothing else.

Dean says something about disinfecting, and wrapping them up, and Sam focuses on just looking at the other. Dean's focused on his little wounds, now he can actually look at the older. At first glance, he hadn't seemed to have aged, but now, when he's letting his face relax, Sam can see tiredness even more evidently. His brother is tired, at least physically if not mentally, and Sam shifts his jaw. He's gotta make sure Dean eats and sleeps. Before he even notices, stuck in staring at the freckled face, Dean's pulling the bandages out, making it to properly fit, and again with way too gentle touches, fixes it up. Dean's always been able to do that, fix everything with a simple touch. God, he loves him.

"You sure your head is fine?" He asks, snapping Sam out of his haze. He blushes a little, feeling caught, before actually realizing the question. 

"Yeah, it doesn't hurt any different, aside from-" He snaps his mouth shut, gut clenching as he feels fear soar. Dean's smile drops immediately, and his brows furrow back down to that worried look, slowly placing a hand on Sam's boney knee, keeping eye contact. A small smile, "It's alright Sammy, it's alright, I promise. Your head doesn't hurt, aside from what?" 

He swallows, not sure if he should say it. What if Dean's stuck in some haze of just having Sam back, and completely forgot about his freak abilities? What if he's gonna hate him now, when he says it outloud?

"Hey, Sammy, look at me." Dean moves closer, his hip bumping against Sam's, and there's nothing but worry and care in the green eyes, easing something deep down. He looks at Dean, scared to break this, again.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hate you, I could never hate you, kiddo. You getting headaches from what? Watching porn? I wasn't that young when I started-" He breaks into a laugh, God he's missed him. Still smiling, he looks down at his hands, still able to see the blood on them, and averts his eyes. A hand wraps around his shoulders, and Sam exhales.

"I get headaches whenever, you know, I get a vision or overextend myself..." He mumbles, and against his belief, the hand around him doesn't tighten from shock, or pull away in disgust. After a moment of silence, he risks a glance at Dean, who has this sad look, before he wipes it off. 

"But nothing that would mean a concussion or something else?" A gentle question, like he's a child, and Sam doesn't know if he hates it or likes it. It's been a while since he's had someone care for his wellbeing, he had gotten used to it.

"No." He says, and Dean doesn't say anything else. As if Sam didn't talk about his freak abilities, of these unwanted powers that teared them apart. He just rubs Sam's back quickly, turning to pack everything away. 

"You got a new necklace?" Seemingly so normal, Sam takes a minute to realize what Dean's talking about.

"Uh, yeah. Bought it from this shop, supposed to keep you from getting possessed." Dean gives an interested sound, and Sam's lips twitch. Talking about necklaces, where was the amulet? Had Dean thrown it away? 

Suddenly it feels like everything crashes back down. Dean's thrown it away. He's thrown it away, like he'll throw Sam. Like it was nothing. Like it didn't mean everything to him, to know Dean had it, Dean loved him. Like it wasn't theirs. Meaningless, useless, unloved.

"Sammy?" He doesn't realize there's tears in his eyes, and he feels hurt, but what did he expect? He ruined everything, he isn't a Winchester, he's a monster, a freak, not good enough, never good enough, God, why is he-

A hand on his shoulder startles him, almost jumping out of his skin. He stares at Dean, with still that kind look he isn't used to, with still that worry, that underlining love. An ugly idea pops into his head, what if he's being played? What if-

"Christo." He breathes out, but nothing happens. Dean doesn't flinch back, his eyes don't turn that haunting black. Nothing. The older only looks now hurt, that he masks quickly, but the worry doesn't leave.

"Sammy, c'mere baby brother, c'mere." Tears blurring his vision, Sam hesitates, but not for long. If this is when he dies, he's fine with it. At least he can believe this was real. Again he's cradled against Dean, and he buries himself straight into the hold, hiding his tears, hiding his face from the world. He's stupid, so damn stupid, how could he not notice the press against his chest, the familiar outline of the amulet before. He's tired, everything seems to be piling up, and he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to do, please, he doesn't know.

It all seems to boil down, and after months, Sam cracks. He physically falls into a ball, his tears turning into body-shaking sobs that come from somewhere Sam doesn't even know. He cries for everything. He cries for himself, cries for being this way, for always fucking up. He cries for his family, for John he knows he lost, for Dean he doesn't know how to help, for the bond he ruined, burnt down. He cries for Robert, for someone who only wanted to help him, only wanted to ease his baggage, and for how Sam repaid. He cries for the things he lost that night, for the life Robert lost, and for the people who were left behind. 

He cries, and feels like he can never stop. 

It takes probably tens of minutes for Sam's sobs to finally stop, for the crying that felt like bullets to Dean's heart, to stop, and for the kid to fall asleep. His shirt is soaked in Sam's tears, and Dean swipes his own away quickly. He's left staring, watching Sam's chest rise and fall, left staring at the thing he thought he'd never see again. Even now, with all he's been through, Sam's the same, worries for others before himself, loves unconditionally, even when Dean doesn't deserve it. When Caleb called to say Sam was having a panick attack, he dropped everything. And when he finally heard his voice, everything came together and fell apart at the same time. 

He exhales, thank you to whoever is up there, for bringing Sam home, even if it's like this. He can fix him, he always could. Moving up, trying to keep Sam as stable as possible in his arms, he pulls the blankets down, carefully placing Sam down. Making sure the kid's arm is alright, he pulls the blankets up to his neck, feeling his heartstrings tighten as he stares down at his kid. His kid he never thought he'd see again, who he was sure was dead. And who's more broken than Dean could've imagined. God, this would be a great time to make him a believer. Help Sam, he doesn't know if he can help the kid enough. 

He leans down, overwhelmed, pressing a kiss to Sam's forehead, and watches the kid breathe for a while. Checking everything is in order, locked and lined with salt, Devil's Trap intact, he slips out of the room, intend on coming back soon. As expected, Bobby's there, and Dean doesn't have to say anything, just wraps his arms around the old man, and exhales, closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oopsie doopsie, you thought the angst was done, didn't you?


	16. Don't let me go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And you'll be gone in the morning  
> And you'll be over this  
> Just one more night  
> So I can forget  
> Stay here and lay here right in my arms  
> It's only a moment before you're gone  
> And I  
> Am keeping you warm  
> Act like you love me  
> So I can go on

Bringing the cool edge of the beer to his lips, Dean took a swig. Thanks to Joshua they even had alcohol, and right now the taste and the burn in his throat was exactly what he needed. Leaning against the wall, Bobby sitting on the couch, tending his own beer, they were quiet. Bobby was waiting for him to talk, he knew it, but if he'd start, Dean feared he might never stop. There wasn't enough words or time for him to explain just how he felt, just what was going on in his head. To have Sam back, never has Dean felt joy like this, and at the same time, this terrible, gut-wrenching sadness. Because he might have Sam back, and God is he grateful for that, but the kid isn't alright. 

He knows Sam has seen him as a protector his entire time, has shared his secrets and dark thoughts with him, _when did that change?,_ and now the kid believes he's a demon, because he's giving him the care and love he needs, something the kid doesn't think he deserves. He's being nice, doing everything in his power to help the kid, and he thinks him a demon. He thinks Dean is one of those fuckers who want him dead, who only want to hurt him and ruin his life, because Dean was being nice. And if that doesn't show something ain't right, he can start counting others. The way Sam keeps quiet, avoids eye contact, places himself in rooms so he's as close to the door as possible, tries to hide behind him when faced with people he's known his entire time, question everyone's motives for him, nearly have a panick attack looking at the map, don't think Dean didn't see that. He saw, but he can't think about it, otherwise the tight spiraling feeling in his stomach will result with him throwing up.

He banishes the thought, he can't risk not being hundred percent in now, he needs to be ready for everything, and more importantly, he needs to get his kid better. He's damn near anorexic, and Dean's seen enough people like that to know, that might be the quickest and most important thing to fix right now. He knows it'll take a while to fix whatever is going on in Sam's head, and even if it takes decades, Dean's ready. Bring it on, there's nothing he won't do. 

"Caleb said the lights in his bedroom are older, so that might be why they're the only ones that broke." Pulled from his thoughts, Dean looks at Bobby in confusion. Lights? Why would lights be breaking? The older hunter notices his confusion.

"You didn't notice?" Dean shakes his head, utterly confused and starting to get concerned. Were they being attacked? Is there some trouble out? Bobby shuffles on his seat, and Dean's worry skyrockets. How's he supposed to get Sam out if they're surrounded, shit, are the Devil Traps in place?

"Dean, we could all hear Sam. We ain't prying, I know you got him, but during that, the lights broke. Did the book say anything about his emotions affecting things?" Bobby asks, and Dean waits for the edge that isn't there. There's no judgement, and he knows from Bobby's look he was searching for it, but the hunter doesn't say anything. It's not that he doesn't trust Bobby, he just can't afford to risk Sam, the man knows it probably. Thinking about the question, he tries to remember, but comes up with nothing. He's sure there was nothing like that, he's read the damn thing through probably thousand times. 

"No. Maybe it's a new development." He shrugs it off, he knows Sam will tell him when he wants, and with the reaction he had today from with just the vision thing, he's sure the kid might not be talking for weeks. He'll wait, even if he aches to know. 

"Dean, you know that we need to talk about it." He narrows his eyes. They can't force Sam to talk, the kid will bolt. 

"He had a freakout from just mentioning the visions, he'll fucking bolt if we make him say anything." He hisses, taking a gulp to drown the start of anger. He knows Bobby means well. Said man gives him a look, as if he's the dumb one. They can't force Sam to talk. They just can't, and they won't. He won't push the kid away, not now, not ever.

"Talking about it might help, Hell, you saw how the kid looked at us. He's ready for us to pull a damn gun on him, and he wouldn't be surprised." There's a rising volume in Bobby's voice, that he dims down as Dean casts a worried look to the hallway. There seems to be no sounds, but the kid can move like a ghost, who knows how quiet he can be now. He exhales, looking back at Bobby who looks a little apologetic. He thinks about what he's saying, and even if there's truth in there, he doesn't want to. Not wanting to risk anything, not wanting to risk loosing Sam, not again, never again. Bobby sighs, figuring out what Dean's thinking, damn him. 

"I know you don't want to risk it, I know, not like we do. But how long do you think it'll work if he thinks we're about to kill him? If we know about the kid's abilities, and act normal, the kid might realize we don't want him dead." Dean didn't want to admit it, but Bobby was right. It was the only thing they could do to win Sam over. The kid considered himself supernatural, and only by treating him normal could he understand it too. And yeah, Dean had to admit, it could be cool. Could Sam lit stuff on fire? Could he banish ghosts? That'd be hella cool, or pretty much anything his little brother will do, is gonna be cool as fuck.

Mind set, he downed the rest of the beer. Putting it away, he checked the clock. A little over two in the morning, Sam would sleep at least till afternoon, and Dean could catch some sleep as well. He gave a tight nod to Bobby, who saluted him with his own beer, seemingly staying here to think. He turned and walked to their room, carefully opening the door and peeking in. Sam was still in bed, under the covers, chest falling in a slow pace, still asleep. Dean smiled lightly, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. Sam shifted, and he froze. Damn, the kid was a light sleeper now, previously he could sleep through an earthquake. Guess being on the run had it's cost. He tossed his flannel off, and slowly rose the covers, trying to get in without waking Sam up. He didn't want to cross any borders, even if he wanted nothing more than to pull Sam against him, and if someone would call it cuddling, Dean would behead them. 

So he settled with lying on his side, watching the kid sleep. Lips parted, Dean could hear him breathe, and even Mom's lullabies hadn't been as good with getting him to sleep. To hear Sam, alive, safe by his side, was more than enough. With how thin the kid was, Dean could see his cheekbones way too easily, his hair had grown a little, hanging over his eyes. Feeling a little fond, Dean carefully brushed his hair back, off his face. Settling down, keeping his hand close to Sam, without touching him, in case he needed to protect the kid. The house was wired against anything supernatural, Devil Traps pretty much in every room, salt around all doors and windows, iron door handles and all. They should be safe. Should, being the key word. 

Before he could close his eyes and chase after sleep, he was startled by Sam. Suddenly awake, or half-awake, the kid was looking at him in the dark, eyes half closed. 

"Ge' in here." He mumbled, and Dean choked a little. Huffing a little laugh, he shifted closer, his shoulder brushing against Sam's. The younger let out an annoyed sound, and before Dean could blink, he was being pulled closer, Sam draping himself over him. The kid attached himself to his side with a heavy sigh, nestling against Dean's shoulder, and God, was he overwhelmed with love. Shifting his arm around Sam, wrapped around the too thin shoulders, he placed his other hand on the kid's leg, expecting to be kicked off, but the kid stayed quiet, his lashes tickling Dean. Feeling his eyes suddenly water, he exhaled, leaning down to press a kiss on that mop of hair. Staying there, he closed his eyes, Sam shuffling a little closer, and vowed to never let this go again.

°°°

If sleeping was a game in the Olympics, Sam would beat everyone with ease. The clock ticking around five PM, the kid still had yet to wake. Not that Dean was exactly complaining, he only left to go take a piss, and would find Sam squinting at him, not properly awake and offended that he had left. He'd slide back in, and the kid would be asleep in seconds. Caleb had been bringing him little snacks, grinning at them, but he could see a try of tears in the man's eyes once, and he couldn't blame him. He had been overwhelmed with just Sam being back so many times it wasn't cool anymore. He could shed couple tears for Sam, sure, but this was no romance movie. He had to draw a line somewhere. 

That didn't mean he'd stop running his fingers through Sam's hair. He was nudging the kid awake, brushing his hair back, trying to rouse him. He could sleep more later, he needed to eat and Dean wanted to check him properly. Against his expectations, Sam woke up calm. No shotting up, smacking Dean or anything he expected. He woke up slowly, eyelashes fluttering as he gazed up at Dean, clearly still sleepy. And damn those puppy eyes, he was probably the first one to fall for them. Sam shifted his mouth, letting out a little sound as he stretched his legs against Dean. He made little huffs, puffing air against Dean's chest before yawning. He couldn't stop smiling, watching the kid.

"Time to get up, kiddo." So many times he's said that, and it never gets old how Sam looks at him, a little squinted, trying to figure out if he really needs to get up or not. Dean grins, and Sam's lips twitch, and it feels natural again, everything alright. He expects for it to change, but as Sam slowly starts getting up, the hazel eyes opening up a little more, it doesn't happen. Maybe getting everything off his chest yesterday helped that much?

Standing by the edge of the bed, hair tousled, clothes wrinkly and clinging awkwardly to his body, his baby brother was the most adorable thing. Rubbing his eyes, he looked around as Dean buttoned his flannel, watching his kid. He was looking for something apparently. Sam turned back to him, and there was some easiness in him, his eyes weren't so vacant, hopeless anymore. And if that didn't make Dean's day, he didn't know what else could. Until, Sam opened his mouth.

"I uh, don't got any clothes. Had to leave my duffel behind." It was too good, too good to be true. Sure, it was shit that Sam had to leave his duffel behind, but luckily there was nothing too valuable there. Dean had everything Sam left behind in a bag, in the Impala, but he wasn't telling the kid that, not yet. Let him enjoy this. 

"I'll get you some sweats and a shirt, any preference, princess?" He asked with a wide grin, and was rewarded with a little laugh, a squinty eye for the show. He was smiling, and Dean has no idea how he survived this long without this kid. Swallowing the emotion, he goes through his own clothes, picking the smallest sweats he has, throwing them somewhere towards the Sam, who lets out a small yelp. Looking over his shoulder, he catches Sam frowning at him, not appreciating being thrown stuff at. He grins again, and pulls out a red flannel. It'll keep the kid warm. That one he hands the kid, and from the way Sam starts shuffling, he knows he needs to go.

"Come out when you're ready, I'll go check what food we got." And just because he can, he pulls the kid to a side hug, breaking it off too soon for his own liking. Sam gives him a shy smile, and the difference from yesterday is huge, but damn, does it feel good. They have a long journey ahead, but now, Dean feels like they can make it. He smiles, and heads for the door, closing it behind him. Immediately in the hallway he smells food, and goes to peek at the end. 

"Well look who's up. The kid awake?" Joshua asks, sauntering around the kitchen as Caleb stands in a corner, seemingly keeping an eye on him. Bobby's by the table, studying the map probably, for what reason, Dean doesn't know yet.

"Awake and ready to be stuffed full of food. Whatcha making?" He asks, taking another sniff. Some meat, and probably potatoes, if he's right. They better have a lot, Sam can eat a lot or little, but they still got five mouths to feed. 

"Potatoes and beef, Caleb thinks I'll burn his kitchen down." Joshua grins at him, and it seems everyone is in a better mood. Caleb huffs, but his mouth twitches.

"Don't think I've forgotten Grantsville." Joshua makes an offended sound, and Dean tunes the bickering off as the door opens behind him. He turns around, Sam peeking his head out. Looking a little anxious, Dean gives him a small smile, walking closer. The door opens, and maybe Dean has a thing for Sam in his clothes. He doesn't think it's connected to the school girl crush he has, more like having the kid in his clothes means he's with Dean, and that he's safe and alright. He doesn't know, the point is, Sam looks like the greatest thing, even if he's thinner than anything Dean's seen, and the clothes are too big on him. 

"Joshua's making some food, you wanna come out?" He asks quietly, ready to compromise if Sam doesn't want to go. The kid's still anxious about them, he needs to win him over, and forcing him out there isn't the way. Sam looks towards the kitchen, they can hear Joshua and Caleb bickering still, and it eases something in the kid. He looks back at Dean, a small smile on his pale lips, and gives a small nod. Dean smiles, and snakes a hand around the kid, guiding him down the hallway. 

Caleb glances at them, in the middle of a sentence, and cuts off as he spots Sam, who might or might not be hiding a little behind him. Joshua turns to look at Caleb, then at Sam, but he acts quicker than Caleb, who's just staring at the kid with a dumb smile.

"Sam! You will not believe this kiddo, Caleb thinks that boiling the bigger potatoes in a another pot would make the food be done faster." Sam blinks, a little caught off guard, and Dean gets what Joshua is trying. He appreciates it, if it gets the kid out of the shell. Again, the kid surprises him, instead of staying quiet, he shuffles, brushing against Dean, and says,

"Well, you can have the other pot on a higher heat, so they can cook as fast as the smaller ones, so kind of, Caleb's right." Everyone in the room pauses for a second, all staring at Sam with awe, happiness or smugness, the latter coming from Caleb. Before the kid can feel awkward, it snaps, and Joshua lets out a indulgent huff, throwing his hand dramatically up, and even Sam chuckles a little at the dramatics.

"Traitors, you all! If we take the weaker ones away from the quicker ones, they won't have anyone cheering for them, how are they supposed to boil happily then?" Dean laughs, Bobby shakes his head while smiling, and Caleb goes to Joshua, pushing him away from the stove, and the two start bickering again. 

"Why are you using the left one, you could-" They tune it out, Sam making a small movement towards Bobby, who pretends not to notice, to let the kid think what he wants to do. Dean gives him a little nudge that he hopes is encouraging, and with a little worried smile Sam quietly moves to the table, Bobby lifting his gaze up. Leaning against the wall, Dean crosses his arms, keeping an eye on them.

"Did you decide about the dog yet?" Unsure of what else to talk about, Sam takes a shot in the dark. Bobby looks a little confused first, he probably didn't expect him to ask that. When the older man realizes, he gives Sam a rare grin, that makes him relax a little more. It's a thing they had talked about before everything, Bobby wanting a dog for company and for guarding the house, and Sam hadn't been able to hide his love for dogs. So they had talked about it, last time Bobby was still considering the whole thing.

"Probably getting one in a couple years, gotta make sure everything is ready. You wanna take care of the bastard, when I'm away sometimes?" Sam can't stop the smile, and Bobby smiles back. He reaches to probably pat him on the shoulder, giving him time to back off, but Sam doesn't. The hand settles on his shoulder, and there's a little pass of fondness in Bobby's eyes,

"It's good to have you back, kiddo." The moment is over soon, Bobby turning to talk to the two bickering hunters as Sam hangs on to the small wave of happiness.

"Hey married couple, we getting some food today, or when I'm too old to stand here and wait?" Sam turns to go back to Dean who gives him a little smile, as he hears Joshua smack Caleb with what he suspects is a kitchen towel, the younger letting out a shriek. Feeling like a little kid, giddied up, he takes the risk of pressing against Dean's side. Now that Dean's here, and he actually starts to realize it, he wants to be close to the older. He can pretend Dean loves him in the same way he does, but even this is more than he could ever ask for.

"Clean the table then, will ye, old man?" Dean chuckles at Joshua, and Sam smiles, his heart beating faster again as Dean ruffles his hair, wrapping an arm around him. Suddenly he flinches back, and before Sam can start panicking, the older curses under his breath.

"The sling. Stay there." And he's taking big steps away, down the hallway into their bedroom, Sam looking after him. He knows someone else is watching him as well, probably wondering where Dean went. To be honest, he's been too busy being decently happy to even notice his aching shoulder, even if it does ache quite bad, if the thinks about it. Soon, Dean's back, a sling in hands. Sam cringes at it a little, not really looking forward to using that thing. At least it's his left hand, not right.

"Kay, now-" He turns his hand before Dean finishes, and the older grins, and soon they're both making sure the sling is in place. It keeps his arm stable, even if it feels a bit weird to have his hand stuck like that. He'll have to get it out after a while, so it won't cramp up.

"Just for a while, when you feel like it. It'll help with the healing. We'll get you some painkillers with the dinner." Dean smiles, that comforting 'you'll be alright' smile he always gives when Sam is hurt in some way. Was it a paper cut, or having his ribs cracked by a werewolf. They stay still for a while, Dean seemingly stuck in his mind as he stares at Sam, with that smile, and Sam can't help but smile back. A hand brushes his other arm, and Sam shuffles on his feet, being cut off with Bobby clearing his throat.

"Food's ready, there should be a bottle left in the bathroom, in one of my bags at least." Dean gives him an awkward smile, and Sam averts his eyes, moving to the table, giving everyone a little smile. Sitting down, his stomach makes a loud rumbling sound, that makes Caleb snort. Everyone else already has food on their plate, and God, how long did he and Dean stay like that? Feeling his cheeks heat up a little, he starts piling up his plate, not taking too much. As much as he's used to eating little, he knows Dean wants him to eat more, and he could use a proper meal. It's been a while since he ate something else than a protein bar or crackers. Dean's back, rattling the pill of bottles in his hand that he puts down on the edge of the table, pulling to sit down next to Sam, taking a loud audible sniff.

"Don't be so excited yet, gal. Joshua always puts too much salt in the food." Caleb laughs, even more as Joshua turns to give him a stink eye. Dean laughs, and Sam doesn't miss the way his brother glances at his plate, a little calculating.

"I could eat ten boxes of instant noodles, I bet he got anything on their saltiness." Sam has to agree, they've eaten probably like ten boxes of instant noodles in their lives, just because they're so salty. Joshua makes a happy sound, and Sam picks up a fork, taking the first mouthful. The second it hits his taste buds, his stomach makes another rumbling sound. It's good, shit, it's actually good. There's just enough seasoning, without making it too salty or not salty enough. He takes another bite, happily eating as his stomach feels endless. Focused on eating, he misses the look the hunters exchange, a mix of happiness and bewilderment. 

They eat in silence, Sam taking another plateful of food, that makes Dean so giddy he can't hide it. Sam gives him a little grin, and he drinks the glass of milk happily, finishing up himself. Bobby's still eating, Caleb's gathering the dishes as Joshua rambles about some hunt back when he was a kid. As the scraping noise from the fork stops, Dean casts Sam a look, to see if he's finished. The kid has a bit odd look on his face, he isn't getting sick, is he?

"Joshua, give me your plate, I don't want to waste all the hot water, I want a shower." 

"You and your boiling showers, here-" Before Joshua can grab his plate, it picks itself up. They all freeze, and Sam shifts his jaw, focusing. It doesn't need a lot from him, and this is how he can figure out what they really think of his powers, right? He floats the plate to Caleb, who he doesn't know how to read, and the man takes the plate from him, and Sam lets out a little breath. He starts checking everyone's faces, leaving Dean's for last, he doesn't want to see maybe. 

"Shit, that's so cool!" Before he can even get to looking at Dean, the older is letting out this tight sound, almost chirpy, and Dean's never chirpy. As he looks at him, Dean actually looks a bit in awe, a smile on his parted lips, as he looks to Caleb, who's pulling out from his shock. Even Bobby looks interested, and in a good way, while Joshua looks at Caleb, both of them looking a little odd. Before Sam can delve on it, they both break into huge grins. Feeling mixed, happy, confused, scared, suspicious, he clears his throat, shifting in his seat. The mood changes instantly, he knows everyone is watching, everyone is ready to move, ready to kill. He bites his lip, forcing it out, no use dragging this on.

"I know you all want to know just what I can do." He looks at the table, playing with his hands. Forcing himself to do this, he gathers his courage, speaking with a little shake.

"I can move things, break, and throw stuff around. I know when there's something supernatural here, at least with ghosts, didn't work on a werewolf though. I uh, I get visions, from the future, which sounds crazy I know, they're shit to be honest. Sometimes they're something I can work with, help save someone, or then they're just colors and flashes." He wouldn't mention the ominous clearing ones, he didn't know what they were yet. Could be nothing.

"And uh, I can tell if someone is a demon." He keeps his head down, almost shaking. He digs his nails to his palm, to keep them from shaking, waiting for something to happen, anything. A bullet to the head, a slit throat, anything. Nothing happens, and he doesn't dare to lift his head up. It's out now, everything he's scared of, they know now. Everyone knows he's a monster. The tears gather even if he doesn't want them to. 

"Sammy." It's Dean who speaks, and he shakes his head. It's a request, a 'please, look at me', and Sam can't. The tears want to get out, and he feels embarrased, vulnerable, hurt, just someone please get on with it. He can't stand the silence. The chair makes a sound, scraping against the floor, and Sam prepares, squeezing his eyes shut. This is it. At least he had a good day, he got to have Dean as a parting gift. He got to have one last time, one last brush of happiness, and it was enough. It's okay. His chair is being moved, turned left, and he stays still, they're probably going to cut his throat and don't want him bleeding on the table. He doesn't breathe, not until familiar, calloused hands cup his face. His face is being lifted, and Sam opens his eyes, letting the tears fall.

Dean's eyes are sad, his lips are pulled into a sad smile. Sam feels his chin wobble, feeling himself crack again. He's a freak, a monster, he knows it. Why is Dean doing this? Rubbing salt to the wound.

"Sammy, can you listen to me for a second, baby?" His heart tightens, and something on his face must say yes, as Dean continues.

"We don't hate you, kiddo. These powers you got, they're what you have now, and that's alright. They ain't some curse, something that makes you a bad person, or anything else you've convinced yourself you are. We'll figure out why you have them, and it'll work out, I promise. I'll always keep an eye on you, I'll always make sure you're alright, because you're my baby brother. So, listen to me. You aren't wrong, you aren't fucked up, you're Sam, and you're the greatest person I know. And if you ask me, it's kinda fucking cool to be able to move shit, imagine, you can steal so many pies for me without anyone noticing." He lets out a small laugh through the tears, the emotions threatening to drown him as he stares at Dean, wanting to believe he's telling the truth. A thumb keeps wiping his tears away, and Sam chokes on a sob, standing up from the chair and into Dean's arms. His tears soaking against the other, the arms that could keep him away from any danger, keep him safe, wrap around him, and Sam doesn't want to ever let this go. More hands settle on him, on his healthy shoulder, and he lets himself cry. 

Maybe he isn't a monster surrounded by hunters. Maybe he still has a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I couldn't have an entire chapter without some angst. But well, now it's out, everyone's cool, Sam might get better. Yippee? Thank you for reading as always, and for the comments.
> 
> Edited note, I posted on my tumblr (@ithinkikindalikechocolate) about the book and the series, I'd love for you to check it out.


	17. Wine stains hide the tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come on love, please don’t start  
> Sing your notes, play your part  
> Then we’ll leave. We were gods  
> With you I could summon the gods and the stars  
> Watch them dance out the plays that we wrote from the heart  
> And we’d laugh at the ghosts of our fears. We were kids

It isn't awkward, like Sam expected, when he stops crying. He can't tell if part of them were from joy, or part from just sadness, but something finally is settling in his chest, and he feels like he can trust them. Or, trust them to not put a bullet in his head, otherwise the people gathered around him have his entire trust. 

For a group that mostly consists of old school men who dodge emotions and hate crying, they handle it well. Dean's kept him plastered against him, and Sam doesn't think there's anything else on this planet that makes him calm down like the older's heartbeat. None of them had said anything, and even when Sam shuffles awkwardly, Caleb and Joshua just smile at him, while Bobby's hand is still on his shoulder.

It feels good, to get it out, to finally be able to tell someone, and not have them freak out or pull a gun at him. He glances at Dean, who's watching him with a small smile, and he ruffles his hair, making Sam grin. 

"I'm glad you told us, kiddo. We ain't judging you, but I'm pretty sure Dean's gonna judge us if we don't pump you full of these meds soon." Caleb rattles the bottle in his hand, and the tension disappears. Sam lets out a relieved smile, and grabs the bottle, handing it to Dean who brushes their hands together, swallowing as he turns his attention to take the glass full of water from Caleb. Bobby rubs his shoulder, before patting it gently, and Sam gives the old man a little smile as he steps back. Dean's handing him three white pills, and they're the size Sam just despises. His brother gives him a knowing look, and Sam just sighs, taking the pills and downing them quick, eager to get rid of the pain in his shoulder.

Caleb takes the glass from him, taking it to where Joshua is continuing to wash the dishes. 

"Sammy, do you... Would you-" Dean smacks his mouth closes, frowning and he shifts, uneasy. Sam pushes down the start of panick and another breakdown, instead waiting patiently as Dean searches for the right words. The older sighs, looking back at Sam and there's so much Sam could read from those eyes, but doesn't get the chance to.

"Is it okay if I ask something about the- the powers?" It's unusual for Dean to be this careful, especially around him, who he knows the triggers of, but Sam guesses his playing safe. The uneasiness is back in his gut, but he pushes it down. This is Dean.

"Yeah, sure." He tries to look as sincere as possible, not wanting Dean to feel bad about asking. He'll answer anything, if it makes the older feel any better about this all. Dean gives him a little smile, and Sam notices everyone else gathering back close, seemingly interested as well. Hopefully he knows what to answer.

"The nosebleeds, they're connected, right? You had them whenever you had a vision, how bad are they actually?" There's genuine curiousity, and a edge of worry Sam's surprised by. It's not like they hurt him, the powers, or, well... He frowns, quickly forming an honest answer.

"I get them with visions, yeah. I also had them when I used the other stuff, moved stuff or something like that." 

This time, it's Joshua who speaks.

"You didn't get a nosebleed when you stopped my car from turning on, did you?" Again, just curiousity, no judging, but Sam still feels bad. He didn't break the car, did he? He just wanted to buy them time.

"Uh, no. I've been like, training, I guess? So I don't get nosebleeds about doing something anymore, unless I do too much... Sorry about the car." He shifts, Dean's hand on his back helping a little. Joshua doesn't look mad, but what does he know, huh? 

"It's a car, kiddo, and it's not like you broke it. Hell, it's quite damn neat, if you ask me." Joshua smiles, and Sam's deflates, feeling better. Maybe he doesn't hate him. 

"So you can interact with things? Like in Patrick, without the whole, you know, out of body travelling?" Sam blinks in confusion at Caleb, he has never heard about what he assumes is a book, or a movie, that Caleb's talking about. Luckily, Joshua comes to the rescue.

"You actually watched that mess of a movie? I can't believe you Caleb." Bobby chuckles, and Caleb crosses his arms, looking offended as he mumbles quietly, "It had Susan Penhaligon." 

"What he's trying to ask, is how much can you do? Break things, whatsoever." 

"Well, I could just float things, barely, in the start. I threw a cabinet at this demon, and I've broken a few lamps. I haven't properly like, tested if I can break something." They look impressed as he mentions the cabinet, and yeah it was heavy and all, but he also got a good nosebleed out of it. Nothing worth to brag about.

"When you say training, what do you do?" This time it's Bobby who asks, and Sam's surprised. Out of all of them, he expected Bobby to avoid the topic the most, being older and more in the same thinking that all supernatural should die, like John thinks. Talking about him, maybe he should ask where he is, he can't keep Dean away from spending even the little time with his father that he can, even with him being the black sheep of the family now. He won't become an obstacle between Dean and John, Dean deserves to have a father. He shuffles a little closer to Dean, and he should feel bad how childish he's being, Dean can't be stuck to him all the time.

"I just used to try and lift my duffle, it was heavy enough that it gave me a challenge." Shit work equipment, he knows, but what else could he have worked with, the streetlamps? As if that wouldn't have attracted dozens of hunters. Bobby gives him a little nod, clearly thinking. That wasn't so bad now, was it?

"What about the demon thing? You can see them?" There's disbelief in it, but Sam doesn't take it personally. He knows it sounds mad, all of this does. He thinks, wondering how to put it into words without sounding like a lunatic.

"Well, yeah. With the ghosts I just get the feeling, but demons got this-" He plays with his hands, trying to mimic what he's trying to say, but how can he mimic a fucking fog?

Sighing, he drops his hands, "It's like a fog, pretty much." He feels bad, not being able to explain it better. He just sounds crazy, plain and simple. The others don't look like it, but knows it was a shit explanation, and he starts to feel frustrated. 

"How often do you get the visions? You said they hurt, you got any trick for making them easier?" Sam stops for a second, because he's pretty sure he hasn't said that they hurt. Did he? Oh wait, Dean probably had the book he wrote it all down in, the one he left behind. Ah, fuck.

"It's just random. Had five days straight without one, and then had one twice in the same day, it has no pattern. And yeah, they hurt, but it's nothing too bad." They hurt, more than any other physical pain Sam has felt, but he isn't telling Dean that. Something passes in Dean's eyes, so he's pretty sure the older knows that as well. He won't make Dean worry about something that's nothing meaningful. 

"When did you have the last one?" Caleb asks, and he actually looks worried. Why, Sam has no idea. It's just a vision, that ninety percent of the time is nothing, means nothing, and is nothing he can do about.

"A while back, it was nothing, just flashes of lights and all that." It was, except it was also the same stupid clearing Sam has no idea about, but mostly yeah, nothing coherent. He'll let them know if something pops up about it, otherwise, it's just a weird scenario, nothing else.

"Alright, well, let me know when you get one, kay?" Unfair, for Dean to use that tone with him, and that look. He knows Sam can't deny him with that. He nods, and Dean doesn't look sheepish at all. 

"Caleb, I'm gonna go move the firewood, they're sayin' it's gonna rain in a couple of days." Sam doesn't pay attention to what Joshua is saying, till he realizes with a snap. He has a chance now, time to go. Pulling away from Dean he stumbles a little, Joshua stopping on his way to the back door.

"I'll come help." Joshua looks ready to argue, but closes his mouth, apparently realizing quickly what Sam wants. 

"Sam, you can't lift the woods, you might be cool as hell, but you still got a broken collarbone." Before Sam can say anything back to Dean, Joshua speaks.

"I'll make sure he doesn't do anything at all, Deano, don't worry." He winks, and Dean gets the memo, pursing his lips for a second before exhaling. Again, a hand goes around him, bringing him to side hug, and Dean grips the back of his neck, before letting him go with a smile, and a nod at Joshua he thinks Sam doesn't see. He moves after Joshua, grabbing a jacket he guesses is Dean's, giving a small grin to everyone, closing the door behind them as the outdoors greet him like an old friend. 

Bobby hums, uncrossing his arms. Watching through the window how Sam trailed behind Joshua, who seemed to be babbling away, keeping the kid entertained. 

"He doesn't know about the demon blood." He says, voicing what probably everyone was thinking. Sam doesn't know where his powers came from. Damn, Bobby has a feeling this might be trouble.

"No. How are we supposed to keep it from him?" Caleb asks, following Bobby's gaze outside. He doesn't know if Joshua went outside with the intention of getting Sam with him, he seemed surprised when Sam offered to come. Maybe the kid has something to talk to him about. He'll ask Joshua later.

"We can't. He might bolt if he thinks we're keeping stuff from him, especially about this. We need to tell him." Bobby sighs, because there is no version in his head that this goes well. 

"No." They look at Dean, whose eyes have that familiar glow that shows itself whenever Sam is concerned. His face is tight, so unlike what they've seen now that Sam has been back, Dean has been mostly smiles and grins. 

"We ain't telling him. He thinks himself a freak already, supernatural, you think he'll handle well knowing that he got demon blood in him?" Dean's drawing a line, making sure nobody steps over it, his tone stern and leaving no arguing. Caleb has no idea where Dean has learnt that from, because it ain't from their military daddy, that's for sure. John's all yelling, Dean's more words with just a slicing edge. 

"And if we don't tell him, and he finds out from a demon, or worse, your Daddy, then what? He's barely starting to trust us not to put a bullet in his head." Dean's eyes darken at the mention of John, and seriously, Bobby needs to call the idjit so he'll fix things with his kids. 

"John isn't coming anywhere near Sam. He made it clear just where he stands, and that ain't with me and Sammy. We ain't telling Sam, period." It's the end of conversation, and Dean turns to look out of the window. Bobby bites his cheek, he had no use fighting with Dean about this, the kid won't budge. He looks at Caleb, who's as torn as he is, wanting to tell Sam to keep the trust, and not wanting to hurt the kid when he's just starting to open up to them. All was supposed to be well, now that Sam's back, and yet Bobby feels like the kid is still as far away from them, as he was when he dropped off the map.

°°°

"- and let me tell you, if I thought the horror movies were bad, the supernatural stuff is even shittier!" Joshua exclaims, throwing his arms up, and Sam laughs, following the man with a smile. Joshua is great, honestly, the man has gotten them out of so many tight situations, and he has some wide strategic viewing of things that even John doesn't have. The air is cold, thankfully he had grabbed a jacket that he's certain is Dean's, which makes it just better. It's big on him, warm, and smells like Dean, keeping him a bit calmer as he can't help but eye the edge of the woods. The insides are safer, sure, but Sam should be safe here, as well. Caleb wouldn't have brought him here if he thought there was a danger, right?

With a grunt Joshua starts grabbing the firewoods, heaving them easily up, or at least it looks like it. Sam could maybe carry two, if he were healthy, and Joshua's carrying five. With him being taller than Dean, he does have some advantage over Sam who's head barely reaches the man's chest. He'll grow, Dean had always said. And he has, a couple inches at least. 

"Now," Joshua exhales as he drops the pile in the shelter, away from the rain's reach, turning to him.

"Let's chaw the rag. You been itching to talk to me, so let it out." Of course Joshua picked up on it, not that Sam was very subtle about it. The man continues moving the firewood as Sam gathers his courage. It's time for him to stop running away from everything.

"You sure we're cool?" He asks as Joshua drops the woods, turning to give him a incredulous look.

"You still stuck up with that? Kid, you're as smart as a hooty owl, you can't think I give a flying penny about you shutting my car down. Hell, I bet it was good for the old fucker, can't seem to run even without anyone poking it." Joshua gives him a look, making sure he gets it, he's not one to give you a real big emotional talking. A welcome change, everyone's been so eager to have all those talks with him it's starting to be concerning. 

"Got it, Sam? I ain't holding a grudge on you for doing what you had to." Joshua stops, really staring him down hard, it makes Sam shift. He's a big man, okay? A little scary, even if Joshua wouldn't hurt a ladybug if he saw one. 

"Got it, loud and clear." He nods with a small smile. Joshua looks at him a second longer, before seemingly satisfied and relaxes, going back to gathering the wood. Sam's tired, and his mind is going around in circles, playing scenarios as words hang on the tip of his tongue. He needs to know, needs to say- 

Ah, fuck it.

"I think I killed Mom." 

Joshua freezes, back turned to him, and Sam can see him tense up. His heart picks up, throat starting to clog, his mind making a plan where to sprint if this is the moment it all breaks, he watches and waits. He isn't straight up denying it, he was right wasn't he? He was fucking right! They knew!

"John knows, right? He told you." Joshua turns around, mindlessly throwing the firewoods down. He doesn't look mad, doesn't look like a person who's plan just failed, and is preparing to kill. There's no way they'd know, if John didn't know. John knew, and now they know. Does Dean know? Sam shifts his leg back, heart churning at the thought, trying to think how long it'll take him to get around the corner of the house. Should he go for the woods? 

"Does Dean know?" His voice cracks, he can't keep the desperation out of it. If Dean knows-

No, he can't think about that. It'd end it all, for good. 

"We need to talk, kiddo." Joshua says it, crouching at his level, keeping his distance. Voice low, a bit unnaturally calm, some part of his brain tells him to make a run for it. So he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I had a different ending planned for this. But well, there you have it, sorry it took so long, my hand didn't appreciate all the school work I had. Thank you for reading, and you can't imagine how happy, and touched I feel right now, because we hit 2k! An insane number, and I want to thank all of you, I never thought people would like this. So thank you, again.


	18. Step to the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can I clear my conscience  
> If I'm different from the rest  
> Do I have to run and hide? (Oh, oh, oh, oh)  
> I never said that I want this  
> This burden came to me  
> And it's made it's home inside (oh, oh, oh, oh)  
> If I told you what I was  
> Would you turn your back on me?  
> And if I seem dangerous  
> Would you be scared?  
> I get the feeling just because  
> Everything I touch isn't dark enough  
> If this problem lies in me

"Sam!" Joshua's yell echoes through the forest, the three hunters inside the cabin snapping into action, quickly spotting the kid running past the house, Joshua on his heels. They all scramble through the front door, the door bashing against the wall, nearly coming off it's hinges.

"Sammy!" Dean yells, a crack of desperation, before sprinting faster than they've seen him, after the kid who's running down the road, towards the main road that's miles off. Bobby, the only one not sprinting after the kid curses loudly, damning his bad knee as his mind runs, trying to come up with an idea. Caleb's the closest to Sam, as far as he can see, Dean on his heels and Joshua starting to slow down, holding his side. Damn, the kid can run like hell.

His blood is thrumming with adrenaline, his ears buzzing as he runs, ignoring the ache in his shoulder and the growing exhaustion. He can hear them on his heels, he can't slow down. Even if Dean's yelling for him to slow down, trying to make him stay but Sam can't- he can't God he can't he killed mom-

It all snaps. Before he can realize what even is happening, his shoes dig to the ground, almost toppling him over. The cold air bites into his skin, his heart tightening as his head starts to pulse with pain. Who he assumes is Caleb, smashes against his back, arms around him and Sam can't breathe. His mind is empty, he can't hear what Caleb is saying, only feel the _thump, thump, thump._

It comes back in a second, everything hitting him at the same time and he gasps, ears ringing, "Sam- Sam what happened- You're alright, you're alright, breathe-" 

He moves, spinning around in Caleb's arms, his trembling hands going for the gun in the man's pocket, and then he pushes with his hands, the buzz in his head sending his friend almost down to the ground. He spots Dean, eyes wide and afraid, why is he afraid-

Something pulls in his head, through the panic, and he doesn't waste a second, spinning back around, gun aimed at the person front of him. More guns are pulled with a curse, and Dean's desperate "Sam, get back!" 

Hands steady, he keeps his eyes trained on the man, on the black fog he sees floating around him. His gun is loaded, he knows, but bullets don't hurt a demon. Shivers go down his spine, and he pulls his mind together, taking a slow breath to calm the adrenaline. The air could be cut with a knife, all sorts of weapons trained at the demon who's possessing a young male with a matted brown hair. The hole in the man's coat, just above his heart, eases Sam's worries of hurting the vessel. There's no one left alive in there. The grey eyes shift to him, the pale lips curved into a twisted little grin Sam doesn't like. He hears people behind him move, tries to map out where everyone is, and how fast he can get them back inside the cabin. They're safe there, the demon wants him. 

"There's no need to be so rude, boys." The words are drawled as the demon eyes them, the grin not slipping off. Something eases in him a little, it isn't him. It isn't the demon from the truck, it isn't the one who-

"Sam, get behind me." Caleb's voice resonates from somewhere behind him, a little to his right, and Sam is tempted, God is he tempted to just hide away. He's a coward, he's a filthy little coward who runs from everything and everyone, but that ends now. He isn't putting Dean, and everyone else, to risk. He owes them everything. The demon shifts, guns are being cocked and Sam doesn't hesitate, he drops his left hand from the gun, his right hand not wavering as he focuses. He doesn't know if he can do anything to the demon with his powers, but damn if he won't try. 

His fingers curl, he tries to imagine his power like as a ball, and he stares right back at the demon, who's eyeing his left hand. He threw a drawer at one of them, he'll throw whatever he needs to, to keep them back. 

"Calm down, pretty boy. You might be able to huck drawers, but there ain't any here now, huh? Put that hand down before you hurt your friends there." He doesn't flinch, keeps his body still, focusing on the buzz he's ready to use. He'll break a fucking tree if he needs to. 

"Wanna bet?" He tilts his head, gripping tight the buzz in his chest, his finger ready on the trigger. The demon narrows his eyes, and Sam gets his answer. They don't know what he can do, good, he can use that.

"I'd advise you to leave, demon. There ain't any reason for me to not start spitting out an exorcism." Caleb's voice is stern, void of the usual warmth Sam hears, it's the tone meant for a monster. Caleb doesn't talk to him like that...

His thoughts are cut short when someone moves, and from the corner of his eye he sees Dean getting closer, trying to get between Sam and the demon, and his calm appearence shatters. His breathing stutters, his hand relaxes for a second, and that's all the demon needed. Eyes snap to him, completely black, and it moves.

For a split second, he can see how this will end. He can see Dean, dead on the cold, unforgiving ground, neck bent at an unusual angle. His eyes would be caught in the last second of his life, caught in the moment Dean would realize this was it, glassed green eyes without the warmth, frozen forever with the fear, with death. His body would be cold, his arms would stiffen, would never wrap around Sam again, never hold him again when he feels like he's being torn into pieces from inside. The ground would be stained with blood, the liquid would've stopped running as the life would leave Caleb and Joshua, crumbled together, both bleeding from the various slashes and wounds. They'd all be dead, the demon would laugh, and he can hear it, the mocking ring in it, can feel the shock of death, the disbelief that everything he loves has been demolished in matter of seconds.

He doesn't need to think.

The ground under his shoes crunches, the gun dropping from his hand as he moves, eyes locked with the demon moving towards Dean, the gunshots ringing in his ears as they do nothing to stop the demon. The buzz in his head drowns everything under, and Sam closes his eyes, feeling the burn in his veins as he prays to whatever God there is to let this work, to let him be able to do this. 

He feels the second his body hits against the demon, can almost hear the black fog thrumming inside, as the buzzing snaps. His arm explodes in burning pain, and the body against him is suddenly gone. The air disappears from his chest, and before he can try and breathe, the blackness around him leaves, and the ground slams against his knees. His heart races, he can hear the blood running in his veins, and he opens his eyes to see the demon on the ground, at least twenty feet away. It comes out of the shock faster than he does, pushing up to his knees, shaking as the black eyes snap to him, wide in shock.

Heaving, it snarls, standing up and Sam hears guns being clicked again behind him, the adrenaline starting to fade off, leaving him feeling empty, as blood starts to run from his nose.

"Tom was right, you're more demon than human, an abomination just like us. I suggest you ward that cabin good, because next time it won't be just me coming." He can barely understand what the demon is saying, he should get up, he needs to get up, what if he's going to attack again? He pushes, but the legs under him won't inch, his whole body drained. It leaves just as soon as it appeared, and the uneasy feeling leaves Sam with it. 

His body is tilting, he barely gets a hand under him so he doesn't smash against the ground. He pants, cold sweat on his back making him shiver, even if his blood still runs hot, like the blood that's dripping down his neck. His head feels empty, woozy and he closes his eyes, trying to fight the nausea that suddenly churns in his gut. An unfamiliar hand wraps around his body, but before he can lash out, he's pulled straight, and his back leans against a familiar chest. The movement almost makes him throw up, and he gags, the acid building up in his mouth making him want to throw up even harder. After that, no one moves him, he can hear someone talking but he doesn't know who, and doesn't have the energy to try and find out. He focuses on the thump of his heart, on the inhales and exhales that calm the pain in his shoulder, and in the slowly growing pain in his head.

He turns his head, resting it against Dean, trying to come up with energy to tell him he's alright. He can practically feel Dean's worry, the arm wrapped around him so gentle, holding him a like porcelain cup, and he doesn't want Dean to think he'll break. He's alright, he just needs a minute. Just a couple of minutes, he'll be able to open his eyes. Just a little longer...

As Sam's body sags against him, limp, Dean feels everything collapse. The cold, wrecking grief comes all back in once, and the air leaving his body feels like his soul leaving. Sam's limp, quiet in his arms, his face stained in blood, no, no this can't be happening, no no no not again please-

His hands shake as he turns Sam around in his arms, God, he's cold already he's dead Sam's dead- 

"Sam." He can't hear his own voice, the panic drowning everything under as he taps his kid's face, trying to rouse him, he can't be dead, no, Dean was right there, he can't be dead no, no, fuck, he can't breathe-

A hand grabs his shoulder, and he lashes out, shaking Sam who stays still, unmoving, just like the dead. This can't be happening, no, no, he was supposed to keep him safe now. No, no it isn't possible. It can't be, he didn't fix him no he didn't tell him enough, no Sam can't be gone, he can't be gone again please God, no, don't do this. 

"Dean!" His eyes snap to Caleb, who's suddenly kneeling front of them, eyes wide with what seems to be fear and worry. Why isn't he doing anything, why isn't he fixing Sam? They need to fix him, no, they need to fix him there's no other way. He'll fix this, he'll fix this it'll be alright-

"Dean, he's just unconscious." Caleb's voice is soft, low, and brings everything to a stop. He stares at the older man, he wouldn't lie, right? The fear and panic turns to anxiety as he snaps to action, bringing his closest hand to Sam's neck, against his jugular, where his heart should beat. His other hand is already sticky with the blood, cupping Sam's face, and he moves it just a little, waiting to feel the air flow, because if it doesn't-

It beats, steady, under his hand, and Dean lets out a breath, feeling the panic bleed out. Sam's alright, he's alright, just passed out. Not dead, never dead, he's alright.

"Breathe, Dean." He does, burying his face against Sam, continuing to listen to his heart beating, forcing himself to calm down. He cradles the kid close for a second, telling himself it's just because of the scare, not because all the bad thoughts and voices in his head leave, whenever he has Sam close. The reality bleeds back too soon, and with a jolt Dean realizes they need to move. Trying to get his legs to work again, he pulls Sam against him, keeping him flush against his chest, moving quickly back to the cabin. 

"Get him inside." Caleb's by his side, it brings a little calm, and Joshua stalks behind them, gun in hand, ready to fend off anything that dares to come close to Dean's little brother. Bobby meets them halfway, asking questions Dean can't answer. He focuses on getting Sam inside, back to safety, he's never leaving the kid's side again. Finally back inside four walls, he sets Sam down to the couch, forcing his breathing to stay calm as the kid flops, completely limp. Everyone else is getting back inside, guns thrown to the table as Joshua and Bobby bark at each other, both seemingly tense. 

"Caleb get me a rag." He pushes the kid's hair off his face, trying to see just how bad his nose is bleeding, hands wanting to shake at the sight of the blood. Sam was supposed to be alright. He was supposed to be safe.

He grabs the rag handed to him, tuning off the arguing, full attention on Sam. It doesn't look like it's bleeding too much, but Sam's blood just never fucking clots like blood is supposed to. Pinching it, trying to get the blood to stop pouring, he fixes Sam's head, so he doesn't choke on his own blood. He doesn't try to rouse the kid, he has a feeling he'll be sleeping as long as it takes for Dean to have a breakdown over it. 

"-ain't my fault! Caleb, what do you think- Caleb, you alright?" The yelling finally stops, Joshua's tone loosing it's hostility in a second. Dean casts a look around, trying to spot what's going on, Caleb standing in a corner, arms crossed and pale as his eyes twitch between Joshua and Bobby. Caleb doesn't answer, runs a hand through his blond hair, and Joshua curses, apology on his lips. Dean doesn't have to wonder for long, remembering with a pang what Caleb has shared about his father, no wonder he doesn't like them fighting.

"I'm s-"

"I'm going to check the bitch is actually gone." Caleb waves them off, grabbing a gun, and walks by Joshua who looks a bit gutted. The door closes and Dean frowns, Caleb shouldn't be alone, but he doesn't want to leave Sam.

"He shouldn't be alone, I don't trust that the fuckers won't just pop in again." He casts Joshua a look, and the man quickly hurries after Caleb, leaving him, Bobby and Sam in the cabin. Focusing back on the latter, Dean finds to his relief that the bleeding has seemingly stopped, and carefully removes the pressure. When nothing happens after a couple of seconds, he sighs. One problem down. 

"The kid alright?" He jumps a little, he hadn't heard Bobby approach. The hunter looks tired, and Dean feels the same. He finds his voice, absent-mindedly starting to clean the blood off of Sam, staining the rag red. The kid needed a change of clothes, and shit, when did he lose the sling? Fuck, they need to find it, Sam needs it.

"Nose stopped bleeding finally. He didn't say that he could pass out from using his powers." He sighs, remembering how Sam stopped the demon heading for him like against a wall, sending him flying down the road. No wonder the kid was exhausted, but fuck, his heart couldn't handle this much stress. 

"Bet he didn't know either. The biggest thing he told us he had done was throw a drawer, not an actual person, let alone a demon." Dean hums, maybe Bobby's right. The blood's starting to come off, and Dean checks the temperature, brushing a few wild strands back. Everything seems normal, he'll have to keep an eye on Sam anyway, he has no idea what can happen and it scares him a lot. 

"You hear what Joshua said happened?" Oh, yeah, why was Sam running again? What happened? 

"Out of nowhere, the kid claimed he killed your Mom." Dean stops, too many emotions hitting him all at once. Confusion, disbelief, anger. Why would Sam say that?

"Why on Earth would he think that?" He can't brush it off as some other weird thing Sam thinks. He knows the kid's head's been beaten enough information about just how his life should be, hunting for The Thing That Killed Mom. So why, why the fuck would Sam think he killed Mom? There's no way, and the kid to even think that, God, he's in a bad way.

"My bet is he figured something out. Or thinks he did. Your Daddy's been filling his head with what happened that night, and I bet it stayed with him, the knowledge that it happened in his room. He puts two and two together, figures out the demon was there for him, and twists it around so it's his fault." To hear it summed up like that, it makes Dean realize just how fucked up Sam's thinking is. If the kid thinks, that just because the demon killed Mom in his room, and was there for him, makes it somehow his fault, he really needs to talk to the kid. Sam was six months, for fuck's sake, it wasn't his fault that the demon did this, or that the demon killed their Mom. 

"Dean," Bobby sighs, "I really think we should bring John into this-"

"No." Even his name brings anger to his gut, there's no way he'll let John near Sam ever again. The man made his choice, Dean made his choice, to make sure Sam is safe from him. 

"Would you listen to me for once?!" Bobby snaps, and Dean lifts his gaze, finally looking at the man. He swallows his own anger, waiting for the older to continue. With a sigh, Bobby continues,

"John knows a lot about this, and he's been hunting the demon for over a decade, he could help. We have no idea what we're up against, and if the next time we see a demon, we're all gonna be dead, Sam included." He looks back to the kid, at his sunken, sleeping face. Sam's tired, he's being torn into too many directions, and if the kid is willing to throw himself between danger and them, Bobby might have a point. They might need help. But from John? Does it have to be him?

"Just think about it, alright? I'll go check where Joshua and Caleb went." Bobby pats him on the shoulder, and soon he and Sam are left alone. Dean lets his shoulders sag, finally gives in to the exhaustion. 

"God, kiddo. We need to talk." He mutters, cupping Sam's face. Even so damn skinny, Sam is still beautiful. Dean doesn't know what he'd do without him. Or, he does. He'd search for a crossroad, and get Sam back, no matter what it costs. He rubs his forehead, going back to work. Slowly, trying to hurt Sam as little as possible, he takes off the jacket, and gladly the rest of the clothes are fine. With no one to see, Dean slips a hand beneath Sam's shoulders, and one under his knees, lifting the kid up. He shouldn't be this light, fuck. 

Carefully he carries Sam to the bedroom, taking his time to avoid hitting the kid's head against a corner. The covers are still dragged down, and Dean places Sam down. Checking the time, it feels like it's been an entire day, but no, it's been only a couple of hours since they ate and everything was fine. The sun is going down, and Dean could use a nap. Taking his overalls off, he slips next to Sam, heart heavy, and makes sure the kid is warm, and there's nothing putting pressure on his shoulder. He has no idea how Sam managed to hold that gun like that, with a broken collarbone. 

Pulling the kid close, he hears everyone return to the cabin, quiet voices, now much calmer, echoing to their room. He closes his eyes, resting his head over Sam's, one hand above his heart, to make sure he's alright, he starts to drift off.

He'll talk to Sam, he'll fix it all.

°°°

The air buzzes with tension, with anger, the darkness in the room barely showing any light. Eyes locked with the figure by the window, they all wait, almost afraid to breathe. 

"You had him, right in front of you, and you didn't take him?" It's a low tone, and Tom's lips quirk up. This'll be fun. The other demon swallows, the meatsuit of a young male starting to look a bit rotting already, guess it can't hold a demon. He's lucky he found this one, after the bastard burnt his old one down with the truck. 

"N-No sir. They were all there, and the kid was able to throw me-"

A crack echoes through the room, followed by a loud thump. Tom's grin fades, that wasn't enjoyable at all. He expected there to be torture, not just a snap of a neck. Terribly boring. The couple demons by the door seem shocked however, guess they've never seen actual violence, or experienced the thrill of having someone's heart beating in your hands, and being able to crush it slowly, enjoying the pain. 

"Tom." He snaps out of his thoughts, rising his head up.

"Yes, Father?"

"I trust you know how to catch a teenager. Bring him here, we need to know what made his powers come out now." He nods, watching the other demons drag the body out. Normally, they could stay in a dead body, but Azazel didn't just snap his neck, nope, he sent that sad excuse of a demon right back to Hell. He had a feeling Alastair would be having fun tonight.

"And kid, don't let me down." He swallowed, recognizing the threat, and nodded. Seemingly done, Tom left the room, mind set. He wouldn't let Father down, and he'd enjoy ripping Sam apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, uh, we starting to get into the action. Also, 50k words lads! Thank you all for reading, and sorry for the late updates. I feel like I'm not giving my 100 percent to this story, and that's really been bothering me. I want to do the best I can, and I dont feel like I'm doing it right now. Any feedback at all is more than welcome, I'm trying to keep the story together but it feels like it's slipping through my fingers. Anyway, hope you all have a great day, and stay safe.


	19. All for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do  
> My gift is my song, and this one's for you  
> And you can tell everybody this is your song  
> It may be quite simple, but now that it's done  
> I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind  
> That I put down in words  
> How wonderful life is while you're in the world

It was quiet, a plus from living in the middle of the woods. Instead of hearing the rumble of engines every tenth second, not that Dean hasn't gotten used to it, there was no sounds from the outside. An occasional creak from the bedroom next to them, or the old pipes cracking. That was all. Maybe it was the reason he couldn't sleep.

He had properly slept for maybe an hour, before quiet voices had woken him. It sounded like Joshua and Bobby gossiping in the living room, and even after the hunters had went to bed, Dean couldn't fall back asleep. Sam on the other hand has been sleeping through every single noise, little puffed out breaths brushing against Dean's face. He isn't counting the time between each breath, alright, he's just making sure the kid won't have a nightmare. He has shifted closer to the kid during the night, Sam's shoulder pressing against his chest, his other arm going numb from time to time from where it's thrown over the kid. 

He's had time to think. To go through everything in his head, to properly think. He had thought about going and getting Sam's notebook and flip through it again, but the kid had grumbled something when he had tried to leave, and he didn't have the heart to leave him even for couple minutes. He knows he got scared shitless, can still feel the aftershocks from all the emotions wrecking through him at the site of Sam unconsicous and bleeding. His chest tightens uncomfortably, and Dean banishes the image quickly. He doesn't have time for nightmares, he needs to figure everything out.

His main priority is solving Sam's emotional state out, he's let this go on for too long, and he doesn't know how Sam's supposed to survive any of the news they need to drop on him, if he's this touchy. It seems like the kid's mind can go from 'maybe i'm a decent lad' to 'i'm a freak' in matter of seconds, and next time he has a freak out, things can go much worse than they went today. Sam could get seriously hurt. He doesn't know if the demons have been watching them, and just jumped immediately on the opportunity on Sam being alone, or if it was an accident. He doesn't believe in accidents. The point is, the demons are out there, and they're way too close, and Dean can't risk having Sam out of his sight. So he needs to go through all the triggers that might cause Sam to bolt, but Christ he doesn't know where to begin. There's so much to unpack, starting from the things he's read from the notebook, ending with the things he's seen now that Sam has been back.

He also needs to figure out how to break the news to the kid. He doesn't trust that Bobby won't 'accidentally' let it slip out that Sam has demon blood. And if the kid now thinks the demon was there for him that night, and that Mom's death was his fault, Dean knows that if he finds out one of those is true, he'll bolt, if not do something even worse. He can see, he's not blind even if he's a shit big brother, he knows Sam isn't alright. The kid has always been selfless, sacrificing himself for the sake of others, but rarely so bluntly than tonight. Stepping in between a demon and them, without having any idea how to hold it back, when they could've ran back in to safety, shows just how much Sam values himself. 

He also knows the kid has something else going on. Something happened, and Dean has had the luxury of time to think about what it could've been. How could he have forgotten how the kid nearly had a freak out from reading about the crash and his trucker friend, which is another thing he needs to solve. The kid can blame himself for everything, especially if he needed to kill someone in self-defense. Sam carries a weight from what happened to the trucker, but it isn't just that. There's bruises where there shouldn't be, on the sharp edges of his waist. The kid sees people in a different way, and no, it isn't because of his powers. It's something else, something happened that made him lose some blind trust in people Dean has fought to preserve. Some of the innocense, is gone. And when he finds the demon who made it disappear, he better hope the host is dead so Dean can skip through the exorcism and get on with the real stuff.

Sam shifts, bumping his nose against Dean's jaw, pulling him out of his thoughts. The kid seems still asleep, just moving around, and Dean doesn't hide the small smile. Sam is warm against him, and for a second Dean could pretend everything is back to normal, they're on the road, hunting something, and Sam's alright. He'll still stuff his mouth full of food while talking to Dean about something exciting, and then later give Dean the squinty look when he talks and eats at the same time. He'll still be the same kid, there won't be demons after him, and Dean won't have to worry that there will be a day when he can't protect Sam. That there will be a day he won't be able to keep him safe, and Sam's going to be ripped away from him, and he'll be powerless. That the grief he has now known, will be true. And there won't be another miracle, miracles don't happen.

He sighs quietly, trying to clear his head. He needs to sleep, otherwise he might be too damn tired to keep Sam safe. No idea if they should be barricading the cabin the best they could, or if they should be all calm. 

_"Tom was right, you're more demon than human, an abomination just like us. I suggest you ward that cabin good, because next time it won't be just me coming."_

That was a threat, no doubt. He needs to check with everyone, but he's quite sure that no matter how many demons there is, they can't get inside with all the Devil Traps. On another note, who the fuck is Tom? The demons got some old lady club out there where they talk shit about Sam, or what the fuck is it? Whoever, Dean doesn't care, he'll kick their asses back to Hell before he lets them touch a hair on Sam.

"I'm sorry." He nearly jumps out of his skin, jostling Sam who he had no idea was even awake. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Christ, kid. Why are you awake, go back to sleep." He pulls the covers higher, maybe Sam's cold, and takes a look around the room. All seems clear, and it sounds like no one woke up from his scare. He breathes again, focusing back on Sam, who's quiet, face hidden against Dean's bare shoulder. He rolls back, now realizing just what the kid said, and frowns. Quickly gathering himself he clears his throat, making sure he won't sound angry or anything, quite the opposite.

"Sammy, whatever you're sorry for, it's alright." His voice is calm and soft, but Sam stays quiet. Moving his arm he rubs the kid's back a little, hoping it'll calm whatever mess that's inside Sam's head right now. How long had the kid been awake, and how didn't Dean notice? A longer breath tickles Dean, Sam's lithe body falling into itself, his hand hesitantly brushing against Dean's. He turns his palm open, Sam's fingers brushing against his, and he has a feeling that the kid is searching for strength to say something, so he stays quiet. Sam's talking, wanting to talk, opening up for a chick flick, and Dean is more than happy about it. It means that the kid trusts him, and wants to talk to him, wants to share his thoughts. Dean just needs to say the right things, and maybe it'll figure itself out.

"I didn't want you to hate me." Dean has to sharpen his ears, to hear what Sam's saying. The kid's whispering, his forehead pressed against Dean's shoulder in a way that should be uncomfortable. Feeling his heart tear a little apart, Dean swallows, figuring out what Sam's talking about.

"I could never hate you." He says it, and it sounds like a vow. This is how all of their more serious talks have been, quiet in the dead of the night, hushed whispers like they're afraid everyone will hear. They've shared everything like this, from Sam's dreams about college to Dean's hopes that he and Sam will stay together, no matter what comes. 

Sam inhales a little sharply, sensing the vow. Dean feels Sam's face scrunch up, feel his lips tug themselves in, and he knows the expression without seeing it. He moves his arm, feeling a rush of emotions as he loops it under Sam, and mindful of the kid's shoulder, he pulls him on top of him, Sam's face falling onto his shoulder. With their chests pressed now together, he can just feel each of Sam's ribs poking against his, can feel his stomach sunken where there should be fat protecting it, the sharp points of his waist. A warm feeling passes, before Dean pulls out of it, focusing on the present.

Sam's nose brushes against his throat, his hands splayed awkwardly around, fingers brushing against Dean's side. Placing a hand on Sam's neck, another one continuing to rub the kid's back, he hopes to give him courage to say it. He wants to know, wants Sam to open himself up for him, let him back into the kid's head. He wants to take care of it all.

"I killed Mom." There it comes. He can feel the tension settle in, the anxiety practically gushing out of Sam. The kid's tense in his arms, and Dean almost starts feeling scared himself, with how much he can feel Sam's emotions dripping into the air around them. He has had time to prepare, but the raw, purely just broken sound that Sam finally says the words with, still scrapes his heart. The kid truly thinks this way. 

"You didn't." He whispers back, eyes locked with the wall as he waits for Sam. Sam has always ended up with saying the result he comes up with, a thing John forced them to learn. They needed to have answers as soon as possible, no matter what. And if they were wrong, they'd feel it later. Sam has spat out the answers since he knew how to, and Dean still can't sometimes understand how the kid comes to these conclusions. He can feel the confusion and frustration from Sam, and that's what he wants. Sam's expected him to gasp and grasp at his chest, feel betrayed and shocked, not straight up deny it.

"The demon killed Mom. You were six months, Sam. I know you've cooped up all these theories about what's wrong with you, and what all terrible things you've done, and I hate to break it to you kiddo, but I'll deny each and every one of them till you get it into that thick noggin of yours." He can practically hear the wheels moving in the kid's head, and lets him think for a little while before continuing.

"You aren't a monster, Sam. You're a kid with too much weight on your shoulders, but that's what I'm here for. These powers, I couldn't care less about why you have them, we just need to figure out how to control them, so that you won't get the headaches and all that nasty shit. You're my little brother, I don't care if you can float a plate or not, I care that you're alright and safe." His cheeks are a little heated up, but he knows he needs to say it. Sam needs it, and screw it all, he'll have as many chick flicks as is needed to have his brother back. It's Sam, there's no need for an explanation.

The kid stays quiet and still, and for a moment Dean wonders if he had fallen asleep, and it all had been just some sleepy ramblings. A quiet sniff cuts through the silence, and Dean can't help but feel his chest tug at the sound. Sam burrows deeper against him, and Dean can feel wetness from the quiet tears. 

"I-I'm sorry for leaving." Dean has to take couple of breaths, because suddenly the chick flick is hitting him. Sam's apologising for leaving him, and a childish part of Dean is still so hurt over it that it twists itself around into a painful ball in his chest. He can remember the hopelessness, the too quiet, lonely nights and the wrecking pain of Sam being gone. Of him being gone because Dean was so terrible he had no other choice. He didn't know where Sam was, if he was alright, if he'd ever have him back, and there are few things that have hurt worse than being apart from him.

"I'm sorry for not giving you any other choice." Sam's scrambling up, and soon his tear-streaked face is staring down at Dean, his eyes having a little panicked shine. 

"N-no, no you were great I just- I didn't know what to do and I didn't want to- to hide it from you but I was afraid y-you'd pull a gun on me like D-Dad did and I'm so sor-" Dean cuts him off, sitting up the best he can and grabbing Sam's shoulders, forcing the kid to look at him and realize how serious he is. He needs a second to gather his thoughts, there was so much in there to process and Dean feels his own eyes threaten to burn at Sam's confession.

"Kiddo, _Sammy_ , you should've never feel that way about me, especially about me. I'm your big brother, you should be able to tell me all of this shit, not be afraid that I'd, _God_ , that I'd pull a fucking gun on you." He stares at the kid, begging for him to get it, to realize how much he means. Sam stares right back, those damn puppy eyes glistening with tears, but still too fucking beautiful. 

"I didn't want to let you down." The kid croaks out, tears spilling out as he tries to hide his face again, but Dean won't have it. He cups Sam's face, wiping away the tears, his heart thrumming with the touch, even when it's being torn in two. 

"You could never let me down." The puppy eyes go even worse, and Dean ignores the emotion building up in his throat, Sam needs to know this.

"Never, got it? I'm so God damn _proud_ , of you. I've always been, and I'll always be. I've watched you grow from a little tiny baby to what you are now, and I couldn't be prouder." A tear slides down his own face as he wipes Sam's, the emotion in the eyes he could never deny too much. There's so much love in him for the kid, he feels like he'll burst from the seams. A wave of tears spill down Sam's cheeks, and he doesn't have time to react before the kid is crashing against him, arms wrapped around Dean so tight, as he falls back down to the mattress. Sam's openly crying now against his chest, all tears and snot and all the gross stuff, but Dean couldn't care less.

He wraps his arms around the kid, holding him tight and tangles their feet together, Sam fitting in between too perfectly. He brushes the kid's hair, letting his own tears go. 

"It's alright, let it out. It wasn't your fault, it never was. I'm right here, and I'm not letting you go kiddo. I got you, we'll figure it out, we always do." He carries on whispering sweet nothings, feeling his heart race. It's tearing them down, to talk about this all, but they'll build back up together, stronger. They'll work it out. 

"I love you." Little hiccoughs through the sobs, and Dean melts. He squeezes his eyes shut, couple of tears slipping out, and hugs the kid closer. 

"I love you too, so, so much." He pulls the covers on them, letting Sam get it all out, rubbing the kid's back. He's grown, in more than one sense. He can still remember when Sam was just a baby, after Mom died, crying all the time and Dean hadn't known what to do, so he had just rocked him back and forth like he remembered Mom had done, whispering meaningless promises, and it had worked. Sam stopped crying when he saw Dean, and with the little, chubby fingers, he reached towards him with a smile on his face, and Dean had known Sam was his. The grins didn't stop, Sam would grin so happily as a toddler when Dean praised him for something, and never stopped reaching out for Dean. Whenever he fell, when they tried walking, and Dean was always there to catch him. 

Sam had grown a lot from that toddler, but he was the same kid Dean fell in love with, and he couldn't imagine a world where he didn't love the kid. And when Sam's sobs started to quiet down, his arms still wrapped around Dean so tight, Dean knew there was nothing he wouldn't do for Sam. To have him by his side, and see that smile each day, what else was there to live for than that? 

"I couldn't breathe, when Joshua called." He gets it out, already choked as he remembers it all. How it felt, to have everything be pulled away from you in less than a second. To lose everything, in a blink of an eye.

"I couldn't breathe, 'cause I didn't know what to do." His voice cracks, and Sam's there, a hand resting on his chest, comforting, and Dean has to hang on to the knowledge Sam is here with him, not dead in a ditch. 

"I could just think h-how scared you must've been, how I should've been there. How it was my fault you were dead, because I drove you away." Sam straightens up, and Dean doesn't want to let go, but the kid doesn't go far. A thumb wipes away his tears, and Dean's hit in the chest with his love for Sam. 

"It wasn't your fault." Sam whispers, and Dean wants to scream. It was his fault, it was all his fault, he should've known. He was supposed to keep him safe. 

"I'd rather have Mom die a thousand time, than lose you Sammy, you have to know it." He nearly begs, finally looking at Sam's face. The kid looks torn for Dean's pain, his eyes empathetic, wanting to comfort him but not knowing how. Sam's always known how to comfort him, he just needs to be alive, that's all it takes. Something lights up in Sam's eyes, and _finally._

He nods, a shaky smile on his still tear-streaked face, and the relief hits Dean hard. Sam comes back down, basically snuggling against him, and Dean wraps himself around the kid, basking in the feeling. He has Sam back, they'll be alright. 

"Not a word about this to anyone." He chokes out, and it does it's job, Sam barking out a laugh so loud it sends them both giggling, trying to stay quiet not to wake anyone up. He smiles so hard it hurts, despite the tears, hugging Sam, knowing there's no one that will ever come between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kay, I'm decently happy with this chapter, sorry it took me so long. I'm figuring out what I want to do with this book, so it's a bit of a mess right now. Thank you all for the support, it means so much to me. I hope you all stay safe, I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible


	20. An hour for the wistful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Try to remember when life was so tender that no one wept except the willow  
> Try to remember when life was so tender that dreams were kept beside your pillow  
> Try to remember when life was so tender that love was an ember about to billow  
> Try to remember and if you remember then follow

It was starting to get cold outside, and a part of Sam was worrying about not having the proper clothes, before he snaps back to reality. He's inside, he doesn't have to be outside in the cold, it's warm in here. It still felt weird, he had been going through the country as fast as possible for so long, that settling down even for this period of time felt weird. It was some sense of stability Sam hadn't had on the run, and he was glad for it.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, he pulled the flannel around him a little tighter, taking a peek to the bedroom. Dean had rolled over after he had left, mouth still open and snores echoing to the hallway. Sam smiled, feeling a sense of easiness he hadn't felt in a long time. The lying was over, he didn't have to hide things from Dean, didn't have to fear him, or fear that he'd hate him. They had a long way to go before they were back to normal, but they'd be alright. 

Turning around he took a deep breath, heading towards the living area. He could smell bacon and eggs, and his stomach was aching a little, so he'd eat eagerly. His head wasn't too bad, Sam had thought it'd be a lot worse, but it seemed decent. A distant ache, but Sam was quite sure it was nothing else. He still was fighting to recall just what had happened, and hoped that he'd get some memory back from talking to others. He could remember Joshua and Caleb, taking Caleb's gun, and something with Dean. He wasn't sure, but he'd figure it out. 

"Sam, morning." Bobby greeted him from the couch, sounding a little surprised. Well he was up early, it was barely eight AM, and there was no Dean playing as his shadow. 

"Morning shortstack, Snoring Beauty coming?" Sam huffed at Joshua, Dean's snores echoing even back here, even if the door was only open a couple inches. Dean did snore quite loud, whenever he did. It was rare that he did, and usually meant that he was deep asleep, which was a good thing.

"Don't think so. What are you making?" He asked curiously, walking to stand next to Joshua, taking a look around the tall man. 

"Bacon and eggs, you need some fat on you, unlike Bobby." Joshua laughed at himself, the bacon sizzling on the pan. It made his stomach growl, the hunter giving him a smug look over his shoulder.

"Don't make me come over and whack yer ass, Joshua." 

"Alright, alright. Hey kid, we got your sling, put it back on before your brother's sixth sense figures out you ain't wearing it." Joshua waved over his shoulder. Sam took a look around, and Bobby leaned over to pull the sling out, handing it over to him. 

"You got it?" He nodded, pulling the sling through his hand. It was well, a bit weird, someone would say, that Sam knew how to put a sling on even if his eyes were closed. Some of his classmates haven't been able to tie a bandage. His face twitches, a short, sharp pain hitting his shoulder as he pulls the strap over. He loosens it a little, absently thinking about yesterday. Or was it yesterday? Sam isn't sure just how long he slept. And where was Caleb? 

He moved his hand a little, testing the sling, deeming it fit. Bobby had moved to the kitchen, taking plates out and Sam suddenly remembered his hunger. Food, another thing he was damn lucky to have. He had been living off crackers and water bottles, the simple smell of bacon was making his mouth water. Joshua was finishing up, and Sam took a quick look around. Caleb's shoes weren't here, maybe he was out getting food? He would've thought they wouldn't dare go out alone after the whole demon thing, but he guesses it's alright. Caleb can take care of himself.

"Alrighty kiddo, dig in." Sam grinned, moving to the table. Bobby and Joshua clearly waited so that he could take food first, and he smiled at them both. Grabbing a couple pieces of bacon and some eggs, he grabbed the fork, and started eating. 

Things were alright. You know, aside from the demons and shit, they were all right. No one was dying from some injury, there were no hunting that could end up with someone dying, no hiding from the law, worrying about the CPS. It was alright. He got food and shelter, and most importantly, he had Dean. He hadn't judged him, he hadn't turned on him, Dean had understood. He had held him when he cried, rubbed his back, and opened his heart to him. Sam still wasn't fully comprehending what Dean had said about choosing Mom dying over losing him. He had started to realize what he meant for Dean, he has been taking care of him since he was a baby, basically raised him, of course there had to be some attachment there. They weren't usually so lovey dovey, if Sam could say that. John hadn't told them he loves them, or maybe he had told Dean, Sam doesn't know. They never talked about stuff, so Dean had followed John's example for some time, and sometimes it had made Sam feel like he was drowning.

There had always been things that bugged him, that he wanted to talk about, but for a while, Dean had been shutting his tries down in the name of avoiding chick flicks. Which was fine, he understood Dean didn't want to hear about his crap, but still, it had bothered him. So now, with Dean openly admitting things to him, telling some hurtful stuff, it was such a big step that Sam didn't know what to do with it. He didn't know if it was just for now, if after this mess Dean would brush his emotions aside again, well, not completely, but back to what they were. 

Dean had said the terrible l-word their entire family has been avoiding for decades. And he had said it multiple times. It wasn't the first time, but it felt like it, after all of this, getting the confirmation that he still meant something to Dean, was a pretty great feeling. He just hoped they would be fine, even if it'd mean losing the chick flicks. He didn't know what to do, if he didn't have Dean.

"So, Sam, how's your head?" He blinks at Joshua slowly, pulling out of his mind. He didn't even notice he had slipped out of the moment, hopefully they hadn't tried to talk with him, it'd be rude. Sam should focus, he was lucky to even have Bobby and Joshua here with him. 

"Uh, it's alright, I guess. A little achey, and I can't remember everything." He shrugged weakly, continuing to eat. He could see Joshua and Bobby exchange looks, and a bit of worry churned on his gut. What had happened he couldn't remember?

"You want a rundown?" Bobby asked, and Sam nodded eagerly, and a little worried. He hoped it wasn't anything too bad, but well, he shouldn't hope.

"Well, you took off and we all went after you. Then you stopped like into a wall, Caleb crashed into you and then suddenly you went all freaky, grabbed his gun and you pretty much flew him a couple feet back, and when you turned around there was a demon. No idea where it came from or have they been creeping aroun' here this entire time, but lemme tell you, it was hecka creepy." Sam nods, trying to remember. He's quite sure he can remember it.

"Then it was just basic threats, before something went south and the demon launched at Dean. Well, you launched too, and kicked that fucker back, I have no idea how you did that, and the demon left while spitting some more threats. You passed out, Dean freaked out, we got inside and that's pretty much it. Dean took care of you, and we made sure the fucker was gone." 

_"Tom was right, you're more demon than human, an abomination just like us. I suggest you ward that cabin good, because next time it won't be just me coming."_

Sam shifts his jaw, hearing the voice ring in his head. His chest tingles, and he pulls the flannel a little tighter around him, his mind pulling him back to that night, remembering the screeching tires, the breath on his face that whispered-

No. 

He blinks, relaxing his face, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth, coming from his bitten tongue. He takes another bite of the food, and the greasy bacon almost drowns it under. He was alright, take a breather. 

"I can take a look at the warding book, I haven't tried it yet so I don't know how it'll work, but it might be worth a shot." Joshua hums, taking a sip of his beer. Now that he paid attention to it, it was rather early to be drinking, especially to Joshua, who drinks pretty much only when there's something to celebrate. 

"Pretty sure I read somewhere that specific types of demons can break the Devil Traps, I guess your wardings could be handy. Where did you buy the book?" Sam lifts a brow, he didn't know some demons could break Devil Traps. That's actually kind of, terrifying. He swallows, he really needs to take a look at the warding book as soon as possible.

"A store back in San Augustine. I checked it, the place was legit. Pretty sure it's some sort of witchcraft, but well.." He trails off. Back then he had thought it wouldn't matter, since he was already supernatural, why wouldn't he do supernatural things? 

"Well, we'll take a look at it, it's better than sitting here with our thumbs up our asses." 

"Bobby please, I'm trying to eat here old man." Sam chuckles at Joshua, and as he grabs his plate to take it to the sink he listens to them bickering. It seemed everything was alright. He glanced out of the window, stopping immediately. Caleb was there, carrying on the work with the firewood he and Joshua had been doing. Why was Caleb out there alone? He had a feeling, psyhic or not, that something wasn't alright with the man. Maybe he should check it out. He waves his hand, the plate carrying on it's trip to the sink without him.

"I'll go see what Caleb's doing." He announces, already moving to the door. 

"Hold up, hold up. What's going on, is he alright?" Joshua's shotting up from the chair, and oh, that's what's up with Joshua. He understands. 

"No, no, he's alright. I just need to talk with him." He seems to believe him, some of the panic leaving his eyes. Interesting. 

"Well, alright, but hold on." He hurries down the hallway, and Bobby just shrugs, as Sam casts him a confused look. Soon the hunter is coming back, and Sam can recognize Dean's snoring cutting off. Well, Joshua isn't being very quiet with his movings. He better go before Dean wakes up. 

Joshua hands him a gun, not just any gun, Sam's quite sure this is the semi new Heckler & Koch Mark 23 he's heard John talk about. Confused, he takes the gun, and Joshua quickly explains.

"You didn't say anything about your Taurus, but we figured out you lost it with the duffel. Well, we'd rather have you carry some sort of gun, so there you go. It's a semi-auto, you know how to use 'em." Sam blinks, baffled. He doesn't know how he should feel, but he's pretty sure gratefulness is one of them. 

"I-, shit, thank you Joshua." He looks up at him, and the hunter just huffs, turning away with a grin.

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Now, let me grab you a jacket and go ahead." 

When he gets outside, he's glad he waited for Joshua. The jacket might be way too big on him, and he might look ridiculous, but it's cold. He can't see his breath yet, but probably in a couple of weeks or by the end of the year it'll be a different story. And damn, it's almost December already. Doesn't feel like it, and he quickly sweeps whatever stress he got from Christmas under the rug, it isn't his priority now. His priority is the quiet hunter that Sam has a feeling about. 

"Caleb, hey." He turns around quickly, almost dropping a couple sticks in surprise, and Sam smiles sheepishly, walking closer. Caleb straightens, his face melting to a tired smile. Now standing closer, Sam can see the bags under his eyes. Something isn't right.

"Sambo, what's up?" He chuckles at the ridiculous nickname. 

"Nothing much, Joshua made some breakfast, you interested?" Mentioning Joshua makes something dim a little in Caleb's eyes, and he glances towards the house, a bit solemn.

"Nah, I think I'm alright for now. Gotta get these woods to cover before it starts raining." Caleb says, looking back to Sam with a little too fake smile. The man's tired, on more than one level. Sam makes his decision, hoping Dean will sleep a couple more hours so he can do this without worrying about him.

"I'll help you out, my head's fine and little training won't hurt. How do you want them?" He's already moving towards the pile, not waiting for Caleb to deny him. He can hear the man sigh, and grins to himself, mission accomplished.

"Just under the shelter, that's all. You sure you can do it?" He's already focusing, taking three trees at once, moving them all slowly to the shelter. He gives Caleb a look while doing it, and he chuckles, shaking his head. Caleb brings his own woods to the shelter, as Sam moves back to the pile, a bit eager to show off that he can be useful, and help out even like this. 

He gives it time, maybe ten or fifteen minutes, the firewood disappearing rather rapidly. He doesn't know how long Caleb's been here, but with the way he's rubbing his hands, it must've been a while. They stay quiet, working around each other in peace. Caleb has always had a calming presence, almost as good as Dean's, and he's known Caleb for as long as he can remember. He knows enough, and with what he figured out in the cabin, he's quite sure he knows what happened. Some other hunters had called Caleb sensitive, some time back, but Sam doesn't think is sensitivity. Quite like him, Caleb's just more open with his emotions, and he hasn't had it easy. Caleb's mom died of cancer, when he was five, and his father didn't take it well. It wasn't just drinking, the same thing John does, Caleb's dad got physical, and some of the things he's said has stuck with him, even when the man's over twenty.

It's always been a touchy subject, but it was a thing Caleb bonded over with Dean, and also something he bonded over with Sam. Dean could understand losing a mother, Sam couldn't, but Sam could understand how Caleb felt about the things his father said to him. Mary has always been something he doesn't know, can't remember, and anything reminding John about her is forbidden. A couple of times when he was younger, he had tried to ask about her, first from Dad, and it didn't end well. Later, when John was drunk off his ass, he had said some things that Sam still carries with him.

_"You look a lot like her, Sammy, I wish-"_

_"You were just six months, and Mary burned up right above you.."_

_"I wish it hadn't been her, God, I miss her."_

He knows John didn't mean it like that. But what was he supposed to think? No one tells him anything about this woman who's supposed to be his mother, who they've dedicated their lives to to get revenge, who burned up above him. It must've been horrible for Dean, and for John, but Sam didn't know her. All he knew, was that John missed her, and a drunken part of him hoped it would've been Sam, who died that night. 

He can understand Caleb, in that way. Caleb's father hurled daily abuse at him, straight up blamed him for his mother's death, Sam had it easier, but he can understand it even a bit. They've never really talked about it, shared and stuff, but both of them acknowledge it.

Caleb doesn't like shouting, not at all, Sam has witnessed him nearly have a panic attack in a store when a customer started yelling. And what do people do, when a demon shows up uninvited, tensions are high, everyone is stressed and scared? Yell, especially if they're talking about Joshua. Which explains why the man feels guilty over Caleb, and was so worried when Sam said he'd go see him. Joshua doesn't do well with words, or emotions, compared to Caleb, so it's a hard situation. Caleb's wrung out, and Joshua doesn't know how to help.

He clears his throat, Caleb's shoulders tensing immediately. He knows that Sam knows.

"I'm sorry about yesterday, I don't remember it but I gave you quite the scare, hope I didn't push you too hard." He apologises, dumping the firewood down. 

"All good, kid." 

"You know how Joshua is, he's loud and sometimes he doesn't think. I'm not here trying to fix things, just know that he feels bad. And that if you want to talk about it, I'm here." 

Caleb stays quiet for a while, carrying on with the work, and Sam thinks that was it. Well, Caleb knows it now, should he ever change his mind, Sam will be there to listen. 

"You don't remember Mary, right?" Caleb stays by the shelter, back facing Sam. 

"I've seen a couple of pictures, nothing else. You remember her?" He asks, aware that he's on thin ice. Caleb's shoulders sag a little, and Sam takes a step closer to the turned back. 

"He was happy, before. Everythin' was alright, even after she got the diagnosis. It was only after the funeral.." Caleb trails off, and Sam feels his heart clench, he feels Caleb's pain. There's sadness, missing the old times when things were better, when he was alright. Sam comes closer, brushing his shoulder against Caleb's side, and the man lets out a shaky breath. It's clear he won't continue, so Sam swallows, clearing his throat.

"John was rarely happy. I don't remember much, but I'm quite sure it was worse when we were younger. I don't know how Dean handled him." He sighs, thinking about the time when his biggest worry was the first day in kindergarten. 

"He talked about her, when he was really drunk. I was eight, it was after he and Bobby had done the hunt back in Michigan, the one with the necromancer and the demon. Dean was working some summer job, and I was home from school. He came home drunk off his ass, nearly hit his face on the table." 

"He talked about how I reminded him of her, how we were similar, how he sometimes couldn't look me in the face because he would see her. And well, it had always been the 'she burnt up above you' thing, so when he said he wished it hadn't been her, well, you know where my mind went." Caleb made a quiet sound, brushing against him and Sam wiped away the try of tears. It was alright, he had had time to think about it.

"It's weird, that we're doing this in the name of someone I don't even know. I don't know her, but I'm supposed to give up my life, hunting the thing that killed her." He mused, and it was. He'd follow Dean, who followed the same drive as John, even if it'd mean giving up his dreams. He doesn't know Mary, but Dean does, and she was his mother. He'll do it for him. 

"You think John meant it like that?" Caleb asks, quiet, and Sam swallows around the lump in his throat. It's a question he's asked himself, for the past years, as long as he's known as much as possible. 

"I think a lot of things would be different, if it had been me instead of her." It's a confession that makes his eyes water, and he looks at the ground. It's alright, stop crying. A hand wraps around his back, and Caleb shouldn't be comforting him, Sam was supposed to comfort Caleb. 

They stay like that, Caleb's hand brushing against his side in a slow movement, Sam gathering himself up again. This wasn't how he planned for this to go, he was supposed to help Caleb. For Christ's s-

"Well, I like this version a lot more. You can read people, but I can also read you, Sam. Let's go inside, your brother must be up." Caleb gives him a small smile, and Sam answers it, even if a bit hesitantly. Had it worked?

"Sorry, I wanted to help but-"

"You did, kiddo, you did. Thank you." He whispers the last words, and Sam smiles, feeling the honesty. His chest feels warm again, even if the air is starting to nip at his cheeks. They walk together back to the cabin, the firewood moved to shelter, as the cold weather starts to approach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's that! We got some Caleb and Sam time, I hope you liked it. This chapter was a bit of a filler, but it can't all be lovey dovey or action packed, so for a filler, I'm quite happy with this. Hope you're all safe, and if some of you are in Texas, I hope you're alright, hang in there. Thank you for reading, it warms my heart to see the comments and to know that people like this. 
> 
> Until next time!


	21. The scratching grows so loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm the paper cut that kills you  
> I'm the priest that you ignored  
> I'm the touch you crave  
> I'm the plans that you made  
> But fuck all your plans, I'm bored  
> "And can't you hear that scratching?"  
> I ask your eyes  
> I've got knuckle burn from typing all these lines into your chest  
> And as the belt from your buckle is tightening  
> I make shipwrecks out of my dress  
> And the door below, it splinters  
> And the creature creeps inside

The clock was nearing midday, and the cabin was full of life. The five hunters were all together in the living room, as Dean had finally woken up nearly an hour ago. The oldest Winchester had practically sprinted out of the bedroom, before he had spotted Sam, sitting by the table. The kid had given him a genuine, soft smile, and whatever baggage Dean held on his shoulders had fallen right off. Dean had eaten breakfast, as they all discussed what was going on. When Dean had finished, Sam had awkwardly asked if he could help him with his hair, since he couldn't go shower alone with his arm in the sling. Dean had happily agreed, and it took only twenty minutes, and a lot of bickering the rest could hear from the bathroom, before the brothers had returned, Sam drying his hair still with a towel.

It was peaceful, the tight atmosphere that had been there, was now gone. Caleb had guessed it had something, or everything, to do with the talk Dean and Sam had the previous night, since the change had been instant. Sam was more relaxed around them all, joking, poking fun at Dean, and sassing Joshua when he came up with some ridiculous ideas. 

"-keep an eye out, if something happens in Jasper. The town ain't far, and it could be a way for the demons to try and lure us out." The plates clattered as the hot water ran in the sink, Caleb and Sam doing the dishes together. Bobby, Joshua and Dean were gathered around the kitchen, working on their plan. They didn't know what to exactly do, other than secure the cabin the best they can, and everyone that lives there. 

"The local newspaper comes every Tuesday, and on food runs we might hear some rumors. Talking about the food runs, Joshua, you coming with me today? We gotta figure out what we're eating the rest of the week, and the beer is almost all gone." Caleb said over his shoulder, handing Sam another plate to dry. Carefully drying it, and placing it on top of the other clean ones, Sam listened closely to the conversation, trying to come up with some other protective solutions. He could try the warding book today, he was feeling quite alright, and didn't think it would drain him too much to try.

"You got it, Cay-Cay. Can't have the beer running out, Bobby would dry out." They all laughed even as Bobby smacked Joshua with the newspaper, cursing them out and muttering something about adult men acting like children.

"The meds are also running out, so if you two can get those too." Dean added, and Caleb hummed.

"The aspirin?" 

"That and the penicillin. The bottle you got of disinfectant also looks like it's moldy as hell, so that might be good to check up too." 

"What's with you and moldy disinfectsnts Caleb? This is like the sixth bottle I know you've fecked over, what do you do with them? Store your piss in them?" Dean barked a laugh at Joshua, Sam giggling along even if Caleb cast him a playfully offended look.

"I can go grab the bottle and you can find out, Oshy." 

"Oshy, that's the best you got? Man, I thought you were better than this Cay." Joshua complained, and Caleb huffed, everyone else quietly grinning at the exchange. They were always bickering, like some married couple. But well, Caleb and Joshua have been a tight fit since they were teens, so it was no wonder.

"I got a tap running with boiling water, don't test me. Your ugly mug could use some new look." Nonethless of the threat, Caleb kept handing Sam the plates, even when Joshua pouted, crossing his arms.

It was good. A change from what it has been. Everyone was feeling better, and Joshua and Caleb had figured out whatever little thing they had going on after the run in with the demon, so there were no awkward silences or anything. It was all so fluent, and it felt right. Even homey, if Sam would admit. Even if a part of him longed back on the run, to see and travel, but Sam was content. He just had to get used to being in one place for a longer time, it would be fine. Maybe he could join in on some food runs, to get some fresh air and travel a bit. Everything was alright, and as soon as they dealt with this demon thing, it would be all okay.

Hanging on to that calmness, was probably why Sam didn't notice it.

The water kept running, the clicking of the plates against each other kept on going, as Sam silently froze. The wet towel in hand, he stared at the plates, afraid to breathe, as he waited for that pull. Caleb was handing him a plate, but Sam didn't take it. The older cast him a look, but Sam paid no attention, his gut churning as the pull in his head started to rise.

"Sam? Kiddo?" A hand came to his shoulder, and he took a shaky breath, the towel dropping from his hands as he leaned against the counter, trying to breathe.

"Sammy?" Chairs were scraping the floor, and he could feel people coming closer. His fingers turned white around the edge of the counter, the pulsing in his head starting to pick up volume, getting louder and louder. Oh God, fuck, not like this, not now, please.

"Vision." He tried to keep his voice steady, but it cracked heavily under the growing pain, and he bit his lip. Squeezing his eyes shut, he ignored the worried voices trying to figure out what to do, focusing on the pulsing and praying quietly.

The first sharp slice of pain ripping through his head made him wince, and his body still wired on the run started moving, trying to get away. Hands tried to stop him, but who he thinks is Bobby, makes them let him go, and he stumbles along the wall, hand following it as the pain grows. 

The second sharp slice of pain makes him yelp, his free hand shotting up to push against his forehead, trying to make it stop. He knows it's only getting worse, and the pain that feels like it's ripping him apart from the inside and then pouring boiling water everywhere will start to hurt real soon. A hand on his arm he recognizes as Dean's, and he grabs it almost desperately, grateful to finally have something to hold on to. He starts taking bigger, slower breaths that numb a bit of the wrecking pain, gripping Dean's hand as his legs threaten to give.

Sliding down the wall he knows he's scaring Dean, can feel it in the air even through the mess in his head, and with a brush of his thumb he tries to reassure. The pain's kicking in and Sam can't hold in the pained whimpers, the burning tears slipping past his squeezed lids, running down his face. He tries to breathe, as his shoulder pulses with the pain in his head, and finally when his head starts spinning he slumps against the wall, resting his head up and takes a sharp breath.

The spinning stops.

_Sam opens his eyes to a dimly lit room, and the first thing he notices is the broken wooden panels lining the wall, the scraped paint and the cheap looking construction light shining above the chair._

_"Last chance, Johnny." A man walks into the picture, and it spins again, this time, the chair isn't empty._

_"No." A stern, deep and rumbly voice Sam knows well answers the stranger, and even with the anger lacing it, they can hear the pain. Blood is dripping onto the floor, creating a small puddle by the legs of the chair. The air is heavy with the acid scent of blood, and the variety of blades, a cattle prod and a bloodstained bowl give him a vivid enough image of the events._

_The black smoke, the man, the demon, snarls, and before he can react, a gun goes off, John slumping forwards in the chair, bullethole in the middle of his forehead. Dread and terror grip his gut tight, but before he can throw up, the image spins again._

_This time, pain explodes in him._

_A wheezy breath crackles through his lips, his body getting tired as he tries to kick, to fight the demon holding him still. He tries to pry the fingers around his throat off, desperation starting to kick in._

_"You were never getting away, darling. We were always there, you just didn't see us. We've always been there, and now, I'm going to take my sweet time with you, finish what I started. You thought you could run, but I'm always here."_

_Tears stream down his face, his legs starting to cramp, only weakly trying to kick Tom off, to make him stop. His breath is hot on his face, and he would throw up if he could. He's growing tired, his chest has stopped screaming for air, and everything hurts. He can't give in, no, please, he needs to-_

_The room echoes with a sickening crunch, soon followed by a heavy thud as the body falls down, off the wall. The hazel eyes are wide open, the burst blood vessels almost making them look red, and a smile paints the demon's lips as he whispers to the corpse,_

_"I'll see you in Hell, sweetheart."_

It all comes rushing back, pain rushing in with the blood as his body screams for air, and Sam takes a sharp breath, coughing as tears slip by, his ears ringing as the buzzing in his head starts to quiet. 

He can't breath, there's someone front of him, and even when his body nearly threatens to give up, Sam pushes himself up, forcing his legs to move as he stumbles away. He can't breathe, the blood is rushing in his head and he can feel the fingers on his throat, the revolting breath on his face. He crashes against a door, quickly noticing a toilet, and at the same time, his stomach decides to flip.

Bile shoots it's way up his throat, and Sam falls just in time over the toilet, his stomach spasming. The taste in his mouth is making him even more nauseous, as he pukes his guts out, pain making him shiver as cold sweat pools in his back. He trembles above the toilet, as his mind pulls itself together, slowly coming back to reality. He registers a careful hand on his back he knows is Dean's, and his heart flips in relief. Dean's here, he's gonna make it alright.

"De'n." He gets out, between puking. He doesn't know what he's asking, but Dean knows, he always knows. His brother shuffles closer, and Sam only now notices that his hair is being held off his face, and feels instantly grateful.

"I'm here. Just breathe, kiddo, it'll pass." He murmurs, and Sam closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing as Dean rubs his back almost comfortingly. The pain is starting to move over, giving space for a bone-deep tiredness to settle in. He almost feels like falling asleep, the disgusting smell pretty much the only thing stopping him from doing that. Hesitant to move, as his stomach quiets down, he exhales heavily, regretting it immediately as his slinged shoulder gives a jolt of pain. 

He grits his teeth to keep the sound in, useless as another heavy retch forces it open, a whimper of pain leaving with the vomit. He takes a sharp breath, forcing the pain to dull down as he focuses on his stomach. They need to go, he knows that, even as his head pulses dangerously.

"We need to go." He gasps out, spitting out the bile in his mouth, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. 

"It's alright Sammy, just breathe." Dean tries to calm him, and Sam makes a disagreeing sound, blindly reaching to where he knows Dean is. He grabs a piece of clothing, ignoring the waves of pain.

"No, we need to go." He rasps, wiping away the cold sweat and the tears, trying to gather his strength. The reality is starting to settle in, companied by growing panick. John might not be his family anymore, but he's Dean's dad, and he's not letting Dean lose him. They need to go, now.

He pushes himself up weakly, grunting as Dean tries to push him back down, blabbering next to him.

"No no, Sammy, stay down. Sam! Down!" He ignores it, straightening up to his full length, keeping his eyes still closed. He can vomit in a bag, there's no time.

"Sam? Dean?" Bobby's voice comes behind the door, and before Dean can say anything, Sam jumps in, desperate.

"Jamestown, Indiana. We need to go." He repeats, before a wave of dizzyness hits him, and his knees buckle. The world spins front of his eyes, before pain sets it straight, coming from his shoulder. He takes in a deep breath, head lying against a familiar chest. He needs to get up. C'mon Sam, get up. 

"Take it easy, take it easy. It can wait." Sam shakes his head weakly, willing himself up. It takes everything from him not to just give in to the darkness, as he pushes against Dean, getting back up even as his body threatens to give. Before he can have a second of relief, he pushes on, opening the door and almost falling out of the bathroom, Dean's voice ringing in his ears. Hands grab his shoulders, and he blinks up to Joshua's face front of him.

"Sam? I need you to focus. What did you see?" Sam swallows, nodding his head, yeah, he needs to tell. Needs to let them know. 

"Jamestown, Indiana. T-Tom, demon, and John. Gun, John's dead." He tries to make his head work, spitting out the words he can comprehend, remembering to breathe. He can see Joshua's face explode into a mess of emotions, before he schools it, looking around and Sam lets his eyes close, leaning against the support. The hands give in, and he's guided against a chest, an arm wrapping around him. He leans against the chest, hiding his face as he focuses on breathing and bringing his mind back to work. 

"Dean, we need to go." The older brother looks torn, eyes flashing from anger to thoughtfulness, and Bobby doesn't have time for this. If Sam is right, they need to go. 

"Caleb, get the stuff and start up the cars." Joshua says, and Caleb looks at him, unsure. Giving a small nod and a smile back, Caleb relaxes, casting a worried look towards Dean and Sam, before going to gather their duffels. 

"Dean." Bobby grunts, impatience lacing through the gruff tone. 

"Sam." Dean turns to his brother, enough plea in his voice to wake Sam from whatever slumber party he was having, shifting against Joshua and blinking up at his brother. Dean comes to the kid, and Joshua backs off, figuring what Dean has in mind. He looks ripped, but still gives Sam a comforting smile as the kid makes a worried sound. They need to get to John, but they all remember their last encounter pretty vividly. And the threat Dean had made. There's no guarantee of what John will do, when he sees Sam. They all know the man doesn't hold much emotional intelligence, and will probably end up mentioning the demon blood, that Sam doesn't know about. Dean wants to be the one to break it to the kid, and Joshua and Bobby leave to help Caleb, giving the brothers a little sense of privacy.

Dean grabs the kid's shoulders, mindful of the slinged one, trying to make sense of his own head, before crushing Sam's down. The kid's been alright, fuck, why did this have to happen now? Why can't Sam catch a damn break!

"Listen, kiddo. Last time we saw John, he told us something. Something that made me very upset. That's why he isn't here, I told him to get out." He waits till Sam nods, the kid looking a little more alert and confused, but still paler than a sheet, that makes Dean's gut twist in worry. He gathers himself, he needs to rip the band aid off.

"He's known, for at least a couple of years, that you have these... That you have these skills. He's known, and he never told us. If I had known, I would've told you, you know that, right Sam?" He stares at the kid, waiting to see him crumbling, but it doesn't happen. Maybe the kid's in shock, but Dean needs to let him know before they go after John, who's apparently been around this entire time. Fuck him.

Nothing happens.

Sam's eyes don't fill up with tears, he doesn't gasp, or take a step back, out of Dean's hold. He doesn't inhale sharply, or anything else you'd expect from someone who's been dropped a big bomb on. Sam might lose trust in John, but he'll never lose it in Dean, he'll make sure of that. It won't happen ever again, he won't let his baby brother down, even if it means spilling out the hard truths that'll make him hurt like hell.

"Boys, we need to go." Bobby's at the door frame, but Dean can't tear his eyes off of Sam. The kid's quiet, he isn't reacting at all. He's staring at somewhere around Dean's shoulder, and his stomach drops. This isn't right.

"You don't think I know?" The kid blinks, eyes coming up to lock with Dean, and his heart skips a beat. There's a look, a darkness, in those usually light hazel eyes, as he looks at Dean, emotions swimming in the eyes. He gets to close his slightly parted mouth, taking a breath in, trying to wrap his mind around what the kid said, when Sam breaks it all.

"You think I don't know about the, the demon blood?" His voice starts shaky, but as he spits those two damned words out, it turns angry. Anger has never been a good color on Sam, and Dean swallows the lump in his throat as he stares at the burning in those eyes he loves. Shock is hanging in the air, being drowned under Sam's rising anger, as he stares at his big brother, uncaring of the other hunters watching, shocked.

"He didn't have to tell," Sam's voice sounds foreign, the anger in his eyes almost drowning everything else underneath, "He let me know it in every possible other way." Sam pretty much snarls, and Caleb moves back instinctively, Joshua not being able to support his friend, so shocked himself. 

"I've always been the black sheep of the family, and you know it. John knew it, and he made sure I knew it too. It doesn't take much to put two together. The demon killed Mom, the demon was there for me. I developed powers after the demon was there for me. John might be occasionally good at hiding his hate, but he hates me, deep down. He knows it was because of me." Sam's lip curls, but the anger cracks for a second, and they can see the pain behind. The kid swallows, but schools his emotions back quickly, hiding under a mask of anger Dean knows well.

"It took me eight years, to realize. Damn too long. John always knew it, I think, ever since he became obsessed with that demon. He knew I had demon blood in me." Sam's voice cracked, and Dean reached forward, but Sam took a step back, even if his heart felt like it was being crushed. 

"He never told us, but he let me know with every word and action, that he hopes it was me who would've died that night." A tear slid down, and it pulled Sam out of his mind, the kid scurrying out of the cabin before Dean could start panicking. Before the front door closed, Caleb was already moving after the kid, but Dean couldn't move. He couldn't think.

He wanted to protect the kid, but he doesn't know if he just made things worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...hello...I take no responsibility of this, alright? Thank you for reading, feel free to comment, they mean the world to me. I hope you're all staying safe.


	22. Become the man you'll never know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey Mister, where have you been?  
> I'll never get to live this life again.  
> I gave it all but you were never there,  
> I gave it all but did you ever really care?  
> I hope where you are is a home for you,  
> because I never found mine while I was always looking for you.  
> Where are you this time?  
> You never showed, you'll never know,  
> How could you just let me go?  
> I'm all alone but you can't feel that,  
> Look at me now, now I've become,  
> become the man you'll never know.  
> This is what I got,  
> I don't need you anymore.

Joshua moved his hands up the wheel, trying to relax so he wouldn't cramp up his shoulders again. It was hard, with everyone being dead quiet, except for the quiet hisses of pain coming from the back seat, quickly companied by comforting mumbles he couldn't hear. Caleb was a quiet, but a reassuring presence on the passenger seat, with Bobby in the back with the boys who were pretty much curled around each other.

He focused on avoiding the holes in the road, not wanting to aggravate Sam's pain, as they headed towards Jamestown. It had been an interesting day, it had started with him and Caleb not speaking, Sam being a helping hand in the middle, Dean so relaxed he snored right till midday. Now, there was none of that peace left, each of them a mess of stress and worry. Except for Sam, who was a mess of anger, desperation and pain they could feel coming off of the kid.

After Caleb had bolted after the kid, it was sure that Sam knew more than he showed, but the kid's words had quickly driven all of them outside, where Caleb was talking to Sam. The kid had taken a breather, before they had all stuffed themselves into Bobby's truck. They hadn't talked, right until Sam started another episode, vision, whatever the fuck it was, and nearly drove them off the road because Joshua couldn't concentrate on the road, when the kid was whimpering in quiet pain. Thankfully it had passed without them ending up in a ditch, but Sam was still fighting off the after effects of the two visions, and hadn't yet said a word about what the second one was about.

"Caleb, you got a clue of Jamestown's motels?" Bobby asked quietly from the back seat, and shit, the man has a point. Where the fuck could John be? He could be in a motel, a rental place, God knows how long he's been cooped up in the place, he could've bought an actual place. How are they supposed to find the man, who they can barely reach when the fucker is on the radar? John's been quiet this entire time, trust him, he and Bobby have been keeping tabs on him, to make sure he isn't trying anything with Sam, but the fucker has been so close this entire time. 

"At least one, that I know of. I'll check, you think he could be somewhere else? A rental place? Any hunters there that would take him in?" 

"Haven't heard of anyone being around here. There's a map in the glove box, if you need." Bobby leaned back, absently rubbing Sam's healthy shoulder gently, before starting to dig his phone out, probably to start calling people. Caleb started rummaging in the front seat, but before he could pull the map out, a weak voice stopped him.

"He's in the motel." Sam rasped from the back seat, Joshua giving the kid a quick look through the mirror. He was pale, wrapped in Dean's coat and basically flush against the older's side, Dean's arms wrapped around the kid. 

"Thanks Sam, get some sleep, alright kid?" Caleb gently said over his shoulder, Sam giving a quiet hum that was as good as any agreement. A quiet exchange happened in the back, Dean accepting the water bottle from Bobby, and started coaxing Sam into drinking even a bit. 

Concentrating back on the road, Joshua trusted that Dean would take care of Sam. He had come into his own conclusions about Sam, and in the end he wasn't surprised by the sudden change in act. They all knew something went down with the demons, something else than just normal scaring, and whatever it was added with the entire baggage Sam has been carrying, the kid was bound to crack at some point. He would be mad and angry, but it would calm over time, if they handled it well.

A long exhale from his side catches his attention, and he gives Caleb a quick look. He looks fine, a little anxious, but from the small frown in the man's forehead he knows something ain't right. Caleb's not used to this, being around people for a longer time, and especially with everything that's going on, Joshua is actually surprised Caleb has been doing well so long. He needs alone time, needs to be alone with his own head, even if Joshua sometimes doubts that's a good thing, it works for Caleb, so he ain't judging. He just wants him alright, and if it means having some unhealthy coping mechanisms, that's what'll do.

He pats the man's knee, keeping his eyes on the road, but he can see Caleb give a small smile, and relaxing a bit more into the seat. They still got a while to go, and they need to figure some sort of a plan, before it's too late. They're dealing with demons now, and one stubborn, unpredictable Winchester. A part of him hopes that seeing Sam after such a long and trying time will make John pull his head out of his ass, but it wouldn't be his first disappointment considering the man, if he didn't. They'll just have to wait and see.

°°°

By the time they were pulling into the motel's rather empty parking lot, they still had no idea what they were doing, or what the plan was. There was no sight of John's truck, or anything else that would indicate the man was even staying here. 

"Sam, I ain't doubting you, but you sure?" Bobby asked, and before Dean could shush him, the kid who he thought was asleep, opened his eyes. 

"There's been demons around here. It's room 58, we can go check it out." And with that, the kid was climbing out of the car, and the rest hunters quickly started unbuckling, hurrying to get out of the car and after the kid. It was a miracle Sam was walking straight, considering he could barely form a proper sentence only an hour ago, and luckily waited for them, or probably for Dean, by the start of the motel's rooms. Sam grabbed Dean's hand, squeezing it before letting go, and it seemed to calm some of Dean's worry, but the older still sticked basically glued against the kid, as they headed for room 58. How Sam knew it was 58, they didn't know, but they trusted the kid and his visions. 

Gathering around the door, checking over their shoulders and trying to see past the curtains, they waited as Sam did, something?

"Sam, uh, what are you doing?" 

"Opening the lock." He answered, as if the answer was clear as anything. What they could see, was that the kid was standing in front of the door, his right hand curled inwards and slightly twisting from right to left. How was he-

Sam stopped, and with a quiet click from the door handle, he opened the door with ease. Immediately they spotted the salt lines, and quickly crossed them, hurrying inside to avoid being spotted. 

"You saw any cameras?" Bobby asked, as they looked around the room.

"None." Caleb and Joshua answered, both checking through the window. If there were any demons lurking around, they needed to know. 

"Well, John's definitely living here. Good job, Sam." The kid lit up a bit at the praise, giving Bobby a genuine smile that however quickly fell. The room wasn't anything special, a bathroom, bed, and a desk that was suspiciously void of any papers. Dean approached it, and as he expected, when he pulled the first box completely out, he found papers stacked, clearly hidden. So John was being secretive, or then he knew he was being watched. Either way, Dean didn't hide his curiousity, Sam coming to stand next to him, and they went through the papers together.

They came to a conclusion quickly, there was nothing they hadn't seen in the pile of papers. News articles mostly, and some police reports about similar accidents like the one they had, a house fire that kills the mother when a child is six months old. They had both seen these papers quite frequently, stuffed into John's duffel or somewhere else. But why would John hide these? They could be considered a little weird, if some maid snooped around them, but nothing too out of the ordinary. So, the man probably knew he was being watched, and didn't want them to know how much he knew about the demon.

Sam went quickly through the drawer, but there was nothing else that peaked his interest. Dean stuffed the papers back where he found them, eyes following Sam who wobbled around the room, looking around. 

"Looks like the man knows he's being watched. Boys, come and take a look." They all gathered around Bobby, who had shamelessly dug into John's duffel, now holding couple of papers that were filled with names, addresses, and old dates. 

"Any of these names ring a bell?" Sam was frowning, scanning the list of names as Dean shook his head.

"None, were these hidden?"

"In the little pocket I taught y'all how to do. Think they got somethin' to do with the demon?" 

"Don't got any other reason why he'd hide 'em." Dean shrugged, trying to get any piece of memory from the names or the dates, but none of them rang a bell. Was John keeping an eye on these people? And why would he?

"I say we wait till he gets back, the demons might've missed us coming here, and it don't look like we're too late. Sam, you got a feeling?" Joshua asked, leaning against the wall, eyes snapping between them and the window. He was keeping an eye out, no idea who they could be dealing with, how many, and when John was coming back. They still didn't know just exactly what to do with the man, when he got back.

"Think we're good." The kid responded, voice a little cracky as he was going through the papers Bobby found. He wasn't sure, but there was something that told him to write them down. 

_Scott Carey  
Max Miller  
Ava Wilson  
Andrew Gallagher_

There were so many of them, probably a hundred total, but guess he had nothing better to do. They could just wait for John to get back, might as well make use of the waiting time. He didn't trust John would give the papers, especially to him, if asked. 

"Any of you got paper and a pen?" He asked, looking through the hunters. Caleb and Joshua were staying by the door, maybe a wise choice, Bobby was rummaging around and Dean looked like he was thinking, and hard. 

"Yep, give me a minute. What are you planning?" Caleb asked as he dug into his jacket's pockets, pulling out a bit wrinkled notepad and a pen, crossing the room to hand them to Sam.

"Writing these down, they might be important." He nodded as a thank you, and Caleb gave him a smile. Placing the paper and the notepad down, he started writing, even as his hand shook, the letters a little more crooked than usual. His head was pounding, he needed to go gather himself in private soon, he needed to analyze the second vision. 

Nothing too serious, just the same repeating one. Standing in a clearing, a figure standing a bit further away, and when it would start turning, Sam would feel like he's choking on blood.

No idea what it meant, but it was giving him the creeps, and he couldn't tell anyone about it. No need to spook them out by just some weird visions that really had no meaning yet.

"Got nothing else interesting. Seems like he's been here for a while, maybe even since he left our cabin. He doesn't seem to be doing any hunts, that'd explain why me and Joshua ain't heard any of him." Bobby sighed, he was getting too old for this. Damn Winchester had always been a pain in his ass, dumping the kids for him without any care of how they'd do. Don't get him wrong, he loves the kids, but damn, they deserved a better father. 

"Seems like it. We had Jerry cross through here two weeks back, but he didn't tell shit about seeing John here, so I guess he didn't know. Or then he got bribed, he's always been a little easy with the promises." Joshua pointed out, and Bobby let out a gruff laugh, seemingly agreeing.

"If he knows the demons are on him, we can expect a gun in the face kind of a hello. Bobby, you got any holy water with you?" Dean asked, and the older hunter dug into his jacket, soon shaking what looked like an old flask.

"We gonna hope for the best that John agrees to go with us?" Caleb asked, and Dean shrugged instantly. 

"Either's fine with me. He wanna stay alive and come with us or not." The older brother turned away from the group, going through the drawer one more time as the rest exchanged glances. Dean was still angry, understandably, but they knew the kid still cared and wouldn't leave John to die.

"Well, I know Joshua's got a mean knockout tactic, you can always try that." Bobby offered, and they chuckled. A man Joshua's size would have no trouble knocking someone out, especially with four hunters helping him. The moment of silence was cut short by the drawer rattling, Dean closing it harshly before turning towards Sam, shoulders tight.

"Sam, a word?" He nodded towards the bathroom, his jaw tight. Sam could feel the anger oozing of his brother, and even if his heart immediately started speeding up, he forced the slight anxiety down. He'd never fear Dean, even if he was mad. It was alright, it's Dean, just calm down. 

"Sure." He got out, and followed the older to the bathroom, trying to control his growing panick. Was Dean done with him? Had he finally proven he was too much, too big of a burden to handle? 

He closed the door, leaning against the surface and waited. Dean was facing the wall, and in such tight space, there wasn't much room between them. His shoulders were tight, drawn up, and Sam knew his brother better than anyone, but he didn't know why the man was angry.

"About what you said back, back at the cabin." Sam tensed, fuck, he had screwn up. He should've had stayed quiet.

"You aren't the black sheep of the family, kiddo." Dean turned to him, and the anger was starting to leave, the green eyes Sam could drown in were calmer, kinder but also sadder, as he looked down to Sam. Dean crouched down at his height, and Sam dropped his eyes to the floor, before the tangling amulet caught his attention. Instead of the floor, he stared at the ugly necklace he had given Dean what feels like a lifetime ago. He didn't know why Dean bothered wearing it anymore, it was stupid.

"Sam, look at me." He could never deny Dean, especially with that tone. John could yell all he wanted, but Dean could use that one tone, and Sam would do anything the older wanted. He lifted his eyes, swallowing as Dean grabbed his healthy shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

"You aren't the black sheep of the family. Guess why?" Dean asked with a small smile, a soft one, that melted Sam's defenses, and his own lips quirked even a bit. 

"Because I've always been there, always taken care of you, like I always will. John could leave when you'd still be drinking liquids and spitting them all on me, but I always got you. And if you ask me, in this family," Dean poked his chest softly, and then his own, before smiling.

"There ain't no black sheeps around. You might be a little bitch sometimes, but I'm glad I got you for a little brother." Sam's shoulders sagged, and his eyes tried to water. He hid it by wrapping his arms around Dean, who huffed, but still hugged him back. God, he didn't know what he'd do without Dean. There were no words for how much he loved his big brother, in every sense you can love someone.

"So, no hiding things from me, okay?" Sam nodded against the warm chest, and could feel Dean's smile, as the older rubbed his back comfortingly. He pulled back to meet Dean's grinning face, and he ruffled his hair, making Sam curse him out without ever meaning it.

"Don't care about John, alright? I got your back, remember that." His heart skipped a beat as Dean brushed a wild stray of his hair back, something vulnerable and distant in the green eyes. Sometimes he felt like he could drown in Dean, in the love that filled him when he thought about him, when they were close like this. It felt overwhelming, how Sam sometimes felt like his chest would explode, with how much of that giddy butterfly-kind of feeling it held inside. There would be no one else he would feel like this about, only Dean. That was fine, having Dean was more than he could ever need or want, however close their relationship was. 

"Thank you." He breathed out, truly meaning it. Dean stilled, before he gave him one of those soft smiles, hand on his neck. 

"Any time, little brother." Words quiet between them, and even as the silence fell, neither of them moved. They stayed, staring at each other, Dean caught in his thoughts as Sam let himself go for a second, truly think about what was most dear to him, as if the answer wasn't right in front of him.

"His truck just pulled here, you ready boys?" A hand knocked on the door, and the moment broke. Flinching back, Sam blushed, dropping his eyes back to the floor as his heart beat picked up. 

"Let's get this over with." Dean answered, and with a quick pat, the older left the bathroom, Sam taking a moment to breathe and gather himself, before following. Caleb and Joshua were still perched by the window and the door, Bobby standing by the bed. Dean had positioned himself between the door and the bathroom, where Sam came from. Feeling uneasiness rise, Sam stayed by the bathroom door, hiding, to be honest. He had seen nightmares about the night he last saw John, and could still feel the pain and sorrow that followed it. Could still hear the words the man had said to him.

They stayed quiet, all waiting. The clock on the wall counted each second, and somewhere close to two minutes, the door handle jiggled. It swung open, and with all the lights on, there was no hiding. 

John looked the same, face schooled in a stony expression, beard maybe a little longer than usual, as he stepped into the room, the door closing behind him. Those eyes Sam had watched dull in his vision sweeped around the room, around the people, and he couldn't hide, as they settled on him.

The stony expression fell, emotion crossing over. Eyes widening and lips parting, John stared at him, in shock or something else, he wasn't sure. Dean shifted, a little more front of him, and it stopped whatever John was thinking, his face pulled back to it's neutral position. It was a gut punch, to Sam, who felt like falling into tiny pieces in front of John, felt like screaming at the man and crying his heart out. And he did nothing. The eyes moved away from him, and it felt like rejection.

Pushing the pain down, Sam straightened himself, schooling his own expression, hanging onto the anger that would help him through this.

"What do you want?" John asked, seemingly from each of them, eyes going around the room. They hadn't tried hiding the fact that they looked around the man's belongings, and John noticed it instantly, his jaw shifting. Sam moved the slightest, grabbing the notepad from the table he had left it on, pocketing it slowly.

"No demon test?" Joshua inquired, a little disbelieving. It was weird, John who had always been wary of people, now surrounded by demons but not even making sure they weren't one. 

"Devil traps." The man gruffed, and Joshua hummed. They stayed quiet, a bit unsure what to say now. They hadn't planned this far. They had prepared for shouting and fighting, not questions and acceptance. So Sam pulled himself together, and stepped out of the shadows, keeping his eyes locked with John, showing no warmth to the man.

"I had a vision. A demon gets you, tortures you, and finally shoots you. You can avoid that by coming with us." He kept it simple, voice steady and cold. John answered with same, his expression schooled and he didn't even move his eye at the mention of Sam's powers or his own death.

"How do you know it doesn't happen after I've come with you?" He asks, and that tone, that damn tone stirs the anger in Sam. He's testing him, trying to break down Sam's stony expression and act. Fuck him. 

"Throw a dice for all I care. My vision comes true, we'll both be dead in two days." He throws the time out, he doesn't actually know when the vision was happening, and something moves in John's eyes. He's distracted from it by Dean, who points out why Sam should remember to keep his mouth shut.

"Both of you?!" The accusing eyes turn to him, but Sam doesn't waver, keeping his eyes locked with John even if he sighs, regretting a bit for not telling Dean. 

"I get my neck crushed by Tom. Don't know if it's before what happens to John, or after. So, we leaving this place or what?" He asks, crossing his arms as he narrows his eyes. He can feel Dean boiling, from Sam not telling and the entire situation. He'll deal with it later. 

John stays quiet, studying Sam. Everything inside him is screaming at him, that's his kid. That's his damn kid he thought was dead, right in front of him. Why isn't he doing something?! 

_Move you fucking idiot, it's your kid!_

Instead he relents, shoulders dropping, and the tight atmosphere falls with him.

"I'll pack."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John is back, is it a good thing or a bad thing? Where are the demons? Hope you're all doing alright, and staying safe, thank you for reading!


	23. Not enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you can't hear me cry  
> See my dreams all die  
> From where you're standing  
> On your own  
> It's so quiet here  
> And I feel so cold  
> This house no longer  
> Feels like home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for implied near sexual assault

It's a tensed packing, to say the least. No one knows what to say, or if to say. Caleb and Joshua keep their eyes locked with the outside, to make sure they'll be getting out safe, Bobby grimly watching John pack, not bothering to help him. A part of him was fuming, well, actually, everything in him was fuming. What was the man thinking?! Sam was right there, right in front of him, and he doesn't do anything?! Everyone thought the kid was dead, Hell, Dean was off to sell his soul for him, but John got nothing? He had hoped Dean was wrong, when the kid had told him John didn't give a flying fuck, but to see it with his own eyes, he couldn't nearly believe it. He knew John wasn't in touch with his own emotional shit, but was it too much to ask? He felt bad for Sam, who had apparently expected something from John as well, and was shut down, now hiding his hurt with anger, Dean looming by the kid.

They were having some sort of a silent conversation, the brothers. It wasn't anything new, Bobby had gotten used to them when they were kids. Dean would tilt his head, raise an eyebrow, and Sam would roll his eyes, or tug the sleeve of Dean's shirt, depending on what kind of a conversation they were having. It seemed to be the latter now, Sam brushing his hand against Dean's, the puppy eyes back in action. He could remember the first time he got attacked by that vicious weapon, a three-year-old Sam turning those fatal eyes of his to him, adding a little 'please', because he knew Dean wanted the piece of pie that was on sale in the diner. And he had caved, Christ he had caved, and he could still laugh now, remembering when later the boys had been in their room, and he had heard Dean whisper a quiet praise and a thank you to Sam. Damn, the older had everything to do with Sam's puppy eyes gaining that power they had, he pretty much encouraged it, but like everyone else, couldn't resist them either.

He was pulled back from his memories by John closing the drawer, pulling those hidden papers out and stuffing them into his duffel. It seemed like it was time to move.

"I'll follow you." John gruffily announced, zipping his duffel closed, Sam and Dean coming out of their corner, back from their own conversation.

"You think we believe you won't speed the other way?" Joshua asked, eyebrow up and his lips tightened. He crossed his arms, looking down at John who narrowed his eyes, not appreciating being questioned.

"Pretty sure he'll find me." John didn't mention his name, but Sam shrunk back nonethless, the tone in John's voice far from the tone everyone else used whenever they talked about his powers. It wasn't calm, understanding or something that made his shoulders fall. He saw Dean roll his jaw, and brushed against the older, they didn't need to start fighting, they needed to move.

"Give me the keys. Caleb can drive your truck, you're coming with us." Joshua announced, uncaring of John's opinion. 

"Not happening." John crossed his arms, his eyes narrowed as he stared at Joshua, who stared right back, the tension rising as both men started to lose their patience.

"Stop acting like toddlers in kindergarten when the other has the only red toy car. John, you're really starting to make me reconsider coming here and warning your ass." Bobby said, his voice cutting through the staring contest between John and Joshua. The gruff hunter wasn't happy, glaring at John who glared right back. 

"Quiet." Sam's voice stopped the starting bickering, the odd tone of it catching everyone's attention. The kid was quiet, standing next to Dean, his eyes closed and forehead scrunched up, concentrating on something. Caleb eyed John, daring the man to do anything, he was ready to throw hands.

Sam opened his eyes, taking a sharp inhale, "We aren't alone. They're here." 

It took a second for everyone to burst into action, Joshua and Caleb flying back to the window, cursing loudly as they spotted a few people hanging around their room, clearly not acting normally. Bobby and John went for the guns, Dean pulling his out and cocking it, glad he had cleaned it earlier. He hadn't counted on it being like this, but he was ready. Sam pulled out the gun Joshua had given him, John taking a double look at it, and Sam would've felt bad about losing the Taurus if John wasn't acting like this. Now, he didn't feel sorry at all.

"They can't get in, that's for sure." The oldest Winchester announced, kicking the rug on the floor aside, revealing a side of the Devil Trap. The salt by the door and windows were unharmed, so they should be alright. The question was-

The door swung open, all guns clicking. Heart in his chest Sam forced his legs to stay still, to not run, but did move a little more to Dean's shadow. He couldn't deny it, he was scared. The black fog surrounding the three people, and Sam already knows the vessels can't be saved. They aren't exactly hidden, blood staining the front of two of their clothes, and the third one's arm is covered in dried blood. Sam doesn't want to know what happened.

And just like that, they cross the salt lines.

"What the fuck," Caleb breathes, his gun lowering for a second. They all stare at the demons, adrenaline rushing. Demons shouldn't be able to cross salt. Why are they crossing salt, oh my god, can they cross the Devil Tra-

The door closes behind them, the demon in the middle, possessing a young blonde girl, steps forward, uncaring about the guns pointed at her.

"A great welcome wagon you got there, boys. But do put the toys down, I happen to dislike them quite much." She says, the smile tilting her face, her tone light, but they all know it's far from it in reality. None of them lower their guns, and her smile falls, eyes narrowing. A second ticks by, and Sam feels it before it happens, a wave of energy smashing against all of them. The wall hits his back, the gun clattering to the floor, and he barely manages to hide his groan of pain, as his shoulder flares up. He bites his cheek, checking Dean over, who seems unharmed, as well as everyone else, though bruised tomorrow.

"It's a simple thing, really. We want something you have, you give it over, and we'll leave you guys alone." Dean huffs as he straightens up, ignoring Sam who stumbles to his feet by his side, probably wanting him to stop edging them on.

"Lady, I don't give a shit about what you want. I suggest you move your foggy asses, out of here." He stares at the demons, gun still safely tucked in his hand. He's ready to move, ready to bust out the Latin, any second. He's ready to break the window in the bathroom and throw Sam out of it, Sam and demons don't go together and he ain't risking it. 

The demon sighs, rolling her eyes. She crosses her arms, taking a look at all the other hunters, before her eyes settle on Sam. He instantly tenses up, feeling the fog focus entirely on him. Dean moves front of him, and even if he can't see his expression, he knows it isn't joking anymore.

He should've seen it come, but he's tired, his powers are tired, and with another sweep, the demon swats everyone else down, except for him. The other demons move, one going for Dean and one for everyone else, as the lady steps closer to him. He starts gathering his strength, he's ready to swat them around like they swatted everyone else, when she speaks.

"Sam, it's a simple thing here, going on. There's three of us, none of you can stop even one of us, and that Devil Trap of yours is terribly placed. You can't win. We can stay here for hours, months, but you'll never win." Her tone is condescending, her smile going for something a bit pitying, and Sam sees straight through it. He bares his teeth, focusing on the anger, giving him energy. He needs it, desperately.

"Back the fuck off! Sam, don't listen to them!" Dean's yelling at him, the other demons seemingly just keeping everyone still, in place.

"Yeah, no." He says, his voice low. His power buzzes as the demon's smile drops, her eyes narrowing on him, and he can feel the anger starting to rise.

"The papers are in the duffel." John says suddenly, his voice louder. The demon turns to him, and he swallows, but doesn't turn away. He's giving the papers away, but for what? Why would he give up every piece of evidence he has on the demon?

The moment of anticipation shatters, when the demon throws her head back, a full bodied laugh ringing out. She laughs loudly, her whole body shaking with them, and Sam casts Dean a look. What the fuck was happening?

The demon starts calming down, still laughing quietly and dramatically wipes her eyes. John, not appreciating being made fun of, is glaring at her, trying to figure out what was happening. 

"Oh, John.." She sighs, still smiling widely as she turns to him. Sam shifts, ready to strike her, but she doesn't attack.

"We could care less about your little research, Johnnie. What we care about," She turns to face him, and Sam feels shivers go up his spine, as the blue eyes get drowned by the pooling black.

"Is Sam here." She clicks her tongue, moving closer and Sam pulls himself together, ready to move, when she stops again. Her eyes stay on him, and he feels like they're staring right through him. 

"Have you ever thought about why this is happening?" She tilts her head, another smile tugging her lips as she looks down on him. Sam shifts his jaw, he hates it, but his curiousity is making itself known. This is a bait, he knows, but what if the demons actually know the reason to this all? He resists, staying quiet, not giving into his need to know. They'll find another way. Not worth risking it all.

"Why you have these, precognitions, huh? Why do you see these people die, who are they, how are they connected to you?" She keeps on going, moving her head from side to side as Sam stays quiet. Not worth risking it all.

"What else changed that night, when poor Mommy died?" She's starting to tease him, try to get him to snap, and Sam bites his cheek to keep it in. Don't risk it.

"What'll happen, when it gets too much? When you lose control?" She whispers, and Sam's starting to crack. How do they know, how do they know this-

"When you hurt someone?" The lights flicker, and the demon smiles at him. Sam focuses on breathing, don't risk it, don't fucking risk it now.

He takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes locked with the demon. He isn't afraid, he won't break. Keep your head cool. He got this. He isn't afraid. 

"Ask someone else, I don't got answers for you." He says, and for his credit, his voice stays steady as he stares at the demon, unafraid. He's in control. 

And that pisses the demon off. 

She slams her hand against the wall by his head, the surface giving in as Dean starts yelling threats again. She seeths down on him, teeth bared and eyes filled with black. 

"You think you're brave? I know what you are, I can see right through that facade of you. You don't think we know?" She growls, and Sam tenses up, his gut churning. His heart is picking up, her voice is chilling him down to his bones, but he won't break. No matter what they say. 

"You don't think, Tom let us all know?" It all falls down. 

He inhales sharply, the words worse than any gut punch he's ever had. His chest tightens, his throat closing around itself, and he manages to rasp a cracked, "What?"

The demon sneers, it's lips twisting to a more sinister grin. He can't help it, his knees are weak and he leans against the wall, trying to remember how to breathe. God no, please no, just no don't don't don't do this please-

"Oh you should've heard it!" The demon yells, throwing her hands out as she laughs, backing off of Sam but he still can't breathe. He can hear his own heart beating, can feel the panic starting to kick in, and he can't do anything to stop it. Like he couln't stop him. He couldn't stop him, _God he couldn't stop him-_

"Tom comes back, and all he can talk about is this little, _sweet_ , Winchester kid. Little kid that was supposed to be a hunter, can you believe that?" She laughs, and Sam starts cracking. He stares at her, willing his powers to make her shut up, please make her shut up.

"He's a damn good hunter! Shut the fuck up bitch!" Dean, oh God, _Dean._

He can't know, he can't know there's no way Dean can know. No, never, he can't know. It can't happen. He won't let it happen. Dean can't know, please, he'll hate him. Dean can't know, he can never know.

Sam was supposed to be a hunter, he was supposed to be able to protect himself. And he couldn't stop-

"Sam, breathe!" The lights are going crazy, buzzing and the bathroom door is banging open and shut repeatedly, but he can't stop it. He could never stop him. God, he can't breathe, please make it stop, please make it stop-

"Sam!" Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop MAKE IT STOP-

He curls to himself, arms wrapping around his legs as he rocks back and forth, trying to breathe as tears stream down his face. He can't stop, he can't breathe, please help him. Please, God, please.

The fog's coming closer, the lights are breaking and everyone is yelling. Please make it stop, he'll do anything, make it stop-

"He swore, he'd finish what he started. He'll get you, you can run all you want, but when Tom sets his eyes on a good lay, he ain't giving up till he gets it."

It breaks.  
_  
There's a hand on him he doesn't know. There's a hand on his mouth, and he couldn't scream if he wanted to. The truck's sliding from side to side, no one at the wheel as the hands are pulling him down, off his seat and the belt is digging into his shoulder and waist. The hands on him are strong, he can't fight, he can't fight, please he can't fight please don't-_

_"C'mere darling, just stop fighting. Let me make you feel good." He tries to kick, he tries to bite, but as the inky black eyes settle on him, he realizes this is it. He's going to die._

_The hand on his mouth moves to his throat, and he gasps for air, for useless air he can't get, as the hand finally gets him free of the seat belt, and he's being dragged over the middle console. He's kicking, he's crying and he's trying to scream, trying to get away but he can't._

_The hand moves to his jeans, and he kicks as hard as he can, momentarily able to scramble backwards, but there's no way to run. You're going to die, this is it. He's going to die._

_He screams as the hand grabs his leg, pulling him back down and there's nothing. There's nothing to be done._

_"You can fight as much as you want, but you really thought I'm letting you go, without having my fun with you first? Have you seen yourself?" A zipper goes down, and Sam feels like throwing up, slapping the hands and trying to pry them away from his own jeans, kicking with all the strength he has, which isn't a lot._

_"This'll be a lot easier if you stay still, darling. It'll hurt a lot less." He feels like he's choking, and he is. He can't breathe, he can't fight, there's a body on him and he can't get him away-_

_Please, God, someone help him, please help him. He doesn't want this he doesn't want this please stop he doesn't want this-_

_Please help him please-_

_He chokes on his own cries, the demon is pushing him down, keeping him down and he's got his hand pinned he can't do anything please someone help his head hurts he can't breathe God help please he doesn't want this Dean please help Dean Dean Dean help-_

_The world explodes in pain, and the last thing he hears before losing consciousness, is the window shattering and metal screeching, almost louder than the buzz in his head._

He breathes. He doesn't dare to move. The world is still, the world is quiet. Quiet is good, right? Quiet means no one is there, quiet means he's safe. He's safe, safe safe safe no no no he's never safe-

A sound passes his lips, and he now notices something trailing down to his mouth, a familiar coppery taste he knows, mixed with the salt of his tears. Tears, tears Sam, you're crying, why are you crying?

His ears are buzzing, his head hurts and he wants to throw up. His body aches everywhere, he's wrapped around himself, his side pressed against something solid, a wall. His heart beats in his ears, as loud as the buzzing. He can breathe, but he can't move. He won't move. Moving means seeing things. Moving means things happening, moving means that quiet is gone. He isn't ready. He can't move. He can't, and he doesn't want to. This is safe, this is alright. Pitch blackness as he's crushed against his own knees, no noises around him except for the buzzing and his own heart. The only thing he can smell, is a mix of gun oil, leather, and pie. 

Dean?

No, no no. Dean's not here. Dean's not here. He's gone. Gone forever. Your fault. You did this. It's all your fault, it always was. Dean's gone, because of him. He failed, this is his fault. There's no Dean, he'll never see him again. It's all his fault, all his own fault. He's disgusting, he's a freak, a monster, a supernatural. He doesn't deserve to live. Dean's gone, why would he even want to live? There's nothing, nothing nothing nothing and just nothing. All his fault. His fault. Always his fault. Never Dean's. Dean was greater than anything else, a light that kept him above the abyss. He's gone, it's his fault. He drove him away. He's disgusting, he's _wrong_.

Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong, all wrong. Everything, wrong.

He's cold. The floor is cold. Why is the floor cold? Cold floor, cold floor, everything is cold. Like in the forest. The forest was cold. The fire was warm. It burnt him, it burnt everything. But it was warm, the forest was cold, but he left the fire. Why did he leave the fire? It was warm, nothing is warm anymore, it's all cold, cold cold cold never warm never was warm. All gone forever gone. Cold cold cold cold cold. 

All gone, all gone. Dean's gone, everything is gone. Everyone is gone. Nothing, nothing, nothing at all. All gone, gone gone gone. He did this, his fault. His fault, all his fault. Nothing, nothing he can do. No fixing, he can't fix it. He can never fix it. His fault, all his fault. He did this. He did this all. His fault, Dean's gone, nothing left. All gone, forever, nothing left, Dean Dean Dean Dean Dean. All Dean, all gone. His fault, always his fault. Monster, monster monster monster, freak. Wrong, wrong, he can't fix it. He can never fix it. Everything is wrong. This is wrong. What is happening? 

"Sammy?"

No, there's no Sammy. Sammy's gone, Sammy's dead. He's dead. Is he dead? Dean's gone. He's gone. No Sammy. All his fault. He's wrong. There's no Sammy left, no Dean. All his fault.

He lets his neck relax, burying his face against his knees. It was all wrong. It was always wrong. He was always wrong. There's nothing there. He'll lift his head, and there won't be anything. Just your imagination, as always. There's no Sammy, ever again. Dean's gone. He's gone. Sam's gone. Everything is gone? Isn't that weird?

Why is someone talking? There's no talking. No one should talk. He doesn't talk.  
_  
"My son isn't a monster."_

_"Am I a good person, Dean?"_

_"You deserve this."_

_"You can run from us all you want, sweetheart, but we're the closest thing to family you got."_

_"It's okay Sammy, you're safe, I got you."_

_"I'm not going to kill you, kiddo."_

_"I could never hate you."_

_"You're my little brother, I don't care if you can float a plate or not, I care that you're alright and safe."_

_"You could never let me down."_

_"I love you too, so, so much."_

"Sammy? Can you hear me, little brother?"


	24. It's far from over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watch the end through dying eyes  
> Now the dark is taking over  
> Show me where forever dies  
> Take the fall and run to Heaven  
> All is lost again  
> But I'm not giving in  
> I will not bow  
> I will not break  
> I will shut the world away  
> I will not fall  
> I will not fade  
> I will take your breath away

"Sammy? Can you hear me, little brother?" He asked, throat tight. His hands wanted to shake, from anger, fear, whatever, Dean didn't care. He needed Sam fine.

And now the kid was the farthest thing from that. There was a bile that wanted to come out, as Dean's head still rang from the words the bitch had said. About what she had implied.

He can't even think about it. He swallows it down, trying to ignore his gut churning in worry and fear, as his brother stays curled in the corner, face hidden in his knees, arms wrapped around his body. The position must be hurting his arm, but Sam has shown no signs of noticing that, and Dean isn't sure what to make of it. Sam's head is somewhere else, and it hurts Dean not to be able to help him, but the last person that approached Sam, is now thrown on the floor, dead. He killed the demons, Dean has no idea how, but he couldn't care less. He needs Sam alright.

"Sammy? Do you mind if I get a little closer, buddy?" He doesn't know if Sam can even hear him, he's shown no signs of being aware of the reality since that shockwave. It had brushed everyone back, but directly hit the demons, everyone else was fine, maybe bruised. They're staying back, good, because Dean isn't having anyone close to Sam right now, other than himself. Slowly, very slowly, he shifts closer from the huddled, crouched position he's in, holding his breath. He knows Sam won't hurt him, but the kid ain't alright right now. When nothing happens as he stops, not wanting to risk it, he lets out a sigh of relief. He's a bit closer, can now see Sam's body slightly shaking, from cold, shock, or emotions, Dean doesn't know and it kills him.

They need to leave. Right fucking now, but Dean can't risk Sam having another burst. Every piece of glass there was, is now shattered. Windows, glasses, everything. The bathroom door is off it's hinges, and the furniture closest to Sam is split in halves. There's no way someone didn't hear that, and plus the bodies, they need to leave. But he's patient, he'll take every second he can give to Sam.

Sadly, not everyone agrees.

"S-" John doesn't get to continue. Dean detects a change in Sam, and he's moving in less than a second, spinning around and facing John who was in the middle of trying to approach them. He lets every piece of anger he's feeling right now out, glaring at John as he marches towards him.

"Out." He growls at his face, clenching his fist. John's eyes narrow, and Dean prepares for a shouting match, when Caleb steps in between them, pushing John back and towards the door.

"All out, now. Dean, come out as soon as possible." He tries to soften his gaze at Caleb, who gives him a smile that's supposed to be encouraging, but is worried. The man pretty much shoves everyone out of the door, closing the halfly broken door behind them, and Dean's alone. Or alone with Sam. Or alone with Sam, and the bodies. Whatever.

He takes a deep breath, he can't show any anger with Sam right now, and suffocates the burn in his chest. He turns around, and Sam is still in the same position, except for his left hand, that's come off his leg and now lying by his side. It looks like he was reaching for something, preparing to blast John or whatever, Dean doesn't care. There's some bit of Sam still in there, he's reacting. 

"Kiddo, can you hear me? I know your ears must be blocked with all that hair on your head, but don't ignore me here." He keeps his tone gentle, trying to coach Sam out with familiar humor, as he starts moving again closer, terribly slowly. He wants to jump the kid, wrap his arms around him so hard he melts against Dean, so he won't ever have to leave him, Sam won't ever get hurt, and he'll always be by Dean's side. But he can't, so he settles with slowly moving closer, eyeing Sam, trying to figure out if he's aware.

"It's just me here, now. You're alright, I swear. I'm gonna just get a little closer, okay? You won't even notice it, unless you pick that mop of a head of yours and check it out, huh?" He keeps on moving, heart thrumming in his chest. He can almost touch Sam, if he'd extend his arm. He's so close. Please let this work.

He stops, as Sam shifts, his heart skipping a beat. He stays frozen in mid movement, his knee quickly starting to protest the position, but he doesn't dare to move. The arm wrapped around Sam's leg relaxes, slowly sliding down. He can barely see Sam's face, but that's fixed soon when the kid tilts his head up a little, and Dean sees those hazel eyes that occupy his dreams every night. 

He feels himself crack. He's held his emotions together for this long, and now, looking at Sam, the hold cracks. The eyes are tired, the color in the dim light a hollow brown, a bit like the handle of his gun. They're tired, and there's defeat, and Dean can't have that. He swallows around the lump in his throat, but doesn't try to hide his burning eyes. Sam understands, he always does.

"It's just me." He whispers, afraid to break this moment, and Sam slowly blinks, shifting his jaw. Dean takes that as a yes, and shifts closer. When Sam doesn't react, Dean runs his hand up the kid's arm, and to his shoulder, gently squeezing it. Sam unfolds his legs, turning a little towards Dean, and that all he needs.

He pulls the kid against his chest, arms wrapped tight around him. Taking a shaky breath, he tries to gather his head, what should he do now? Sam slowly wraps his arms around Dean, his fingers curling around the material of his jacket, clinging onto him, and buries his face against Dean's chest. The kid feels so small against him, and Dean is hit with the reminder that Sam's just fourteen. The kid's fourteen, and has been through things some adults will never go through. They've never had a normal life, but Dean thought, that keeping Sam with the supernatural, would mean he'd be safe from the dangers of the normal world. Turns out he was wrong. He couldn't protect Sam from everything, but damn it all, he was going to try.

"It's alright. You're safe, with me. You're gonna be alright, okay? Gonna be just alright, little brother." He rubs Sam's back, keeping him tight against his own chest. Every word is a promise, and he hopes Sam knows that. He'll be there, whenever the kid needs him. Whatever he needs. 

"You don't have to." Is mumbled against his chest, and Dean frowns. What the fuck is the kid talking about. Taking some distance, so he can see Sam's face, the kid grabs his hands, lifting his puffy, red eyes to his. 

"All this... You don't have to. I know you don't like chick flicks, I know I've been pretty shitty now, and you feel like you gotta do them, but you don't have to," Sam gives him a tight, looped smile and Dean can't believe this kid. "I know it all. I know you, uh, love me and all that shit, you don't have to say it." 

"What if I want to, huh?" The braveness disappears immediately, now that Dean says it aloud, and he swallows. Sam blinks up to him, confused, those puppy eyes wide open and staring up at him. 

"Dean, you don't-"

"No. I know you can't get this into that thick skull of yours, but you mean some shit to me. Alright? You're my little brother. And I know I haven't been the greatest with all that lovey dovey shit, but that's gonna change. And it ain't because of you. Or it is, but you know what I mean." He shuffles, biting his cheek as he avoids looking at Sam. C'mon Dean, you practised this. 

"What I'm tryna say here, is that you ain't doing so good, and I ain't doing so good, so maybe some little chick flicks are fine. But not a word to anyone, or I'll kick your ass." He threatens with a smile, and that breaks the wide-eyed look Sam has, the kid chuckling a little.

"I'd like to see you try." Sam gives him a sly grin, and Dean barks out a laugh, ruffling the kid's hair. It was probably true, Sam could kick his ass, but Dean sure as Hell wasn't gonna let the kid win easily. Psychic powers or not, Dean was still the big brother. 

Reality breaks their little bubble soon, as Sam looks around the room, his face turning pale, and Dean curses in his head. 

"Hey, hey, look at me, okay? We need to go, everyone's waiting outside." He grabs Sam's shoulders gently, pulling his attention away from the bodies, but the sick look on the kid's face doesn't leave even as he turns back to Dean. His eyes are a little scared, and Dean bites his lip. Fuck it, Sam needs him. He grabs the kid's hand, ignoring the warmth coming up to his cheeks, and pulls the kid up, avoiding his eyes. He pulls Sam close, and together they start moving towards the door, Sam clinging to his hand. 

"Just breathe, okay? You're gonna be alright." He promises with a serious look, and waits till the kid nods. He turns back to the door, pushing it open and scans their surroundings. Everyone's cooped up by the cars, and Dean pulls Sam along, quickly walking to them. He glares at John, giving him a straight warning. The man better keep his mouth shut. They need to go. 

"Me and Sam are going with the 'pala. Who's coming with us?" He looks at Caleb, who eyes John with a narrowed look. He gives Sam a little smile, before looking at Dean.

"I'll come. I'll let the elders go together." Joshua makes a inhuman sound, and Caleb grins at them. 

"You're a fecking year younger than me, you bastard." He huffs at Caleb, who just grins wider. He pats Joshua's back, and nods towards the Impala, Dean giving Joshua and Bobby a nod, before following Caleb. He doesn't even bother to give John eye contact, he just tucks Sam closer and hopes the kid follows his example. He doesn't want John talking to Sam, who knows what bullshit the man will give the kid. No way. 

Caleb turns around as they reach the car, and before the man can speak, Dean gives him the keys. He wouldn't normally let pretty much anyone drive his Baby, but this is a special occasion and Sam needs him. Or he needs Sam. Whatever. He does give Caleb a meaningful look, and the man gives him thumbs up as he moves around the car.

"Not a scratch, I know." 

They climb into the back seat, Dean relaxing against the leather. He has Sam by his side, and the kid might have a long way to go, and he needs to figure all this shit out, but Sam will pull through. Dean will make sure of it. The engine purrs to life, and Dean can't help the tug on his lips. The Impala has been a home, since their old one burned. He can still remember Sam tied into that baby car seat, crying his eyes out or sleeping. There was never no in-between. 

They got some shit to do, but when Sam closes his eyes by Dean's side, his thin body finally giving into the exhaustion, Dean relaxes as well. The sun's going down, painting the road gold, and he knows everyone else is following them. They'll work this out, they always do.

°°°

The lights flash through the dark sky, surrounding the abandoned motel room surrounded by police. The place is taped around, and Tom could get easily in, but there's nothing that interests him now. The only thing he was here for, is gone. And if that bitch wasn't dead already, he'd kill her all over again.

"Charlotte, Harper and Elijah by the looks of it, sir." He huffs, of course. Charlotte, that bitch never understood anything about orders. They were supposed to wait for him. If they had, Azazel would be having his fun with Sam already, but no. 

"They in Hell?" He asks, a little bit of honest curiousity. Father will be interested, if little Sammy is starting to exorcise demons with his little powers. That would make things interesting. Chris had told him to drop the kid already, but he isn't going to. Sam is something else, and he can still hear the kid cry in his head. He should've had paid attention more that night, but damn, Sam was easily distracting, especially under him like that.

"That's what I'd guess. They aren't coming in, at least." The girl says, Tom hasn't bothered to remember her name. She's useless anyway, giving him information he doesn't need.

"Or then they know I'll have some fun with them, the next time I see them." She swallows, but Tom doesn't care. He doesn't understand why Azazel insisted on making other demons work with him. If he could do this alone, it would have been done already. At least he isn't making him work with his damn sister, he'd choose Hell over her.

He straightens from where he's leaning against the motel wall, hidden in the shadows. The girl follows him as he heads to the parking lot, he needs a ride. He approaches an old Ford, it'll have to work. 

"The uh, the police are right there, sir." The girl stammers, and Tom chuckles. A fresh demon, still a complete weakling. She'll learn, through the easy or the hard way, Tom doesn't give a shit.

"Were you the attentive one in school, huh?" He cracks the window, silencing the car alarm easily, and slips inside the car. He doesn't need a key, and as he puts the car's gear in, the little girl slips in, just in time before he starts backing up with a shift move. Just that easy.

"They headed back to Jasper?" He asks as he pulls to the road, and the police are as obvious as always. Typical humans.

"Pretty sure, yes. What's the plan?" She asks quietly, eyeing the mirrors nervously. Like some cops could stop them, she really had a lot to learn. Fucking kids, he always gets the idiots with him. 

"To drive there, what else, sweetheart?" She shifts uncomfortably, and he grins. Jasper isn't far, but the little hunter gang is probably already there, since Tom got delayed. Last time he waits for someone. He was so damn close, and Sam slipped through his fingers again. 

"I mean, the kid might have some protection? What kind of backup are we getting?"

"First he needs to find energy to put the wardings up, do your research kid. We don't need backup, you can go do whatever you want, I'll handle him." Sam has no chance. He's a demon, an experienced one, and the kid's a hot mess. Sure, he has some powers, but what's he gonna do? No, Sam is going to be a crying mess when he sees Tom, and damn, is he going to enjoy that. The kid's asking for it, denying him back with the truck, now making him wait. 

"You're going in alone?" She almost shrieks, and Tom growls. 

"Listen, you can shut your pretty mouth and sit there till the end of the trip, or you can have your neck crushed in the span of seconds. Your choice, darling." 

He tunes her out, he doesn't got time for this. He has to figure out how to get Sam alone. Bullets don't kill him, but they make wearing this meatsuit quite a lot harder. And he's sure that the little bastard Dean is going to give him trouble, the second he spots him. He's ridiculous, maybe Tom will have some fun with him after Sam. He's sure he'd like to hear how he made Sam scream. And he isn't hard on the eyes, either.

Who else, oh yeah, John. Well, the patriarch Winchester wasn't going to be a problem. As much as the man wanted to pretend he was a good father, he was far from it. He'd pull a gun on him, but with some little negotiations he'd easily let Tom have his way with the kid. As if they didn't know what the man was researching. Of course they knew. 

Then there were the couple other hunters, those he could just kill. There was no use of them. Just little annoying flies. It would make John mad, but more willing to give up on protecting his kids, and Sam broken enough not to want to fight. Hmm, that actually sounds like a good plan. He'd like a pliant, willing Sammy. 

The plan was set, and very simple. Go in, get the kid. He knows he should bring him straight away to Azazel, but maybe a little alone time with Sammy wouldn't hurt. He could get them a nice little hotel room, or just take him in the back seat of this Ford. He'll make the kid choose. 

It would be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We getting some demon action! We're starting to enter the last phase of the book, so prepare for some intense emotions, plot twists and some big action! Thank you all for reading, as always, hope you're all having a good day! Love you xx


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